Ever After
by DrAnime203
Summary: Loki Odindóttir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned. Slight AU from the beginning. OC-centric. Eric/OFC. Past Godric/OFC R&R.
1. Prologue

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humor/Romance/Drama

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 362

Summary: Loki Odindottir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

* * *

Prologue.

'I'm moving.'

'_Again?'_

Loki gives a deep, long-suffering sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly. She loves Thor – really, she does! – but he is exhausting at the best of times.

'Yes, brother.'

'_Where?'_

She scoffs, fiddling absentmindedly fiddling with the Bluetooth headset in her ear as she drives towards her new home. Bon Temps, Louisiana, is a small, close-knit town – and after ten years of living in New York it's a breath of fresh air. But she sure as hell won't be telling her brother that.

'Thor, I'm not telling you where I'm moving.'

He makes an outraged noise of complaint. '_Why not?!'_

'Because,' she deadpans, 'the last time I gave you my address you repeatedly showed up unannounced, ate all my food and made a mess when I went out of town for the weekend.'

'_It wasn't _that _bad...'_ He grumbles – Loki can almost hear his petulant pout.

'I got evicted.'

'_...Oh, yeah.' _Thor concedes with a sheepish chuckle. '_But as "Victoria Storm's" loving, concerned brother, what if you need my help?'_

Loki can't help but huff in amusement. The alias was one in a line of many – it was an inevitable necessity when you were immortal and playing human. Thor himself was living with his wife and daughter under the name "Thomas" in New Mexico, but would likely return to Asgard(1) within the next decade. He'd never been as fond of mortals as she was, but even he admitted to enjoying the peace and simplicity of Midgard(2) – Loki herself had been there almost two-thousand years.

'We both know you could find me if you needed to.' She assures, and he concedes the point with a reluctant grumble. 'Give Astrid a kiss for me, will you?'

Thor assures her he will – "_You're her absolute favourite aunt, you know!"_ – and hangs up just as Loki pulls into the driveway of her new home.

Loki surveys the beautiful house with a smile playing on her lips.

'Well,' she murmurs, 'this'll be an adventure.'

Her words catch on the wind, drifting through the breeze in a promise laced with the magic of her soul, and the residents of Renard Parish give a collective, simultaneous shiver.

* * *

Author's Note: This is just a teaser to worm you in – chapters will be longer than this, generally. Yes, this is a girl!Loki story; I took creative license and ran with it. And again, yes, I see her as Angelina Jolie in my head – have since before I even started writing this – but I don't own Ms. Jolie's likeness either. So please don't sue me.

(1) Asgard is the name of the realm of the Aesir, according to Norse Cosmotology, and one of the Nine Homeworlds that make up _Yggdrasill - _the "World Tree".

(2) Midgard is the name of the realm of humans - Earth, basically - and is another of the Nine. According to Norse Paganism, it sit's in the centre of the World Tree.


	2. Chapter One

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humor/Romance/Drama

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,187

Summary: Loki Odindottir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

* * *

Chapter One.

Merlotte's is every inch the backwoods, Southern bar one would expect to find in middle of nowhere – the cliché of it is charming.

Loki – Victoria, now – flips her long, ink-black hair over her shoulder and scans the room with emerald green eyes, ignoring the stares. Even after a month of working there, she still receives curious glances and lots of questions, but she is hardly fazed by this. It's an unwritten law of the universe that the people of small towns are busybodies; Bon Temps is no exception.

'Hey, Vick,' the shaggy, handsome man behind the bar greets with a smile, 'you're right on time.'

'I always am.' She winks. Sam Merlotte is her boss, the owner of the bar and a shifter who spends a lot of time as a border collie, running around the woods. Loki likes him a fair amount; he is kind, honest, and treats his employees well.

And being a shapeshifter herself, she can't deny that she feels a certain kinship with the man (1).

After dumping her purse in Sam's office and putting on her apron, Loki pokes her head into the kitchen with a lewd grin, and wolf-whistles loudly at the chef.

'Lala, purple is definitely your colour.' Lafayette, in his sparkly, plum-coloured bandana whirls around to wink at her, and preens at the compliment.

'Honey-child, _every_ colour is my colour,' he points at her with the spatula in his hand, 'and you iz lookin' as fine as always.'

'Yeah,' she tells him, voice dipping low in a poor impression of a muscle-headed man, 'I'd do me.'

Lafayette snickers. He is one of the most entertaining humans Loki has come across in a long time, and their shared flirty, mischievous attitudes ensure that they get on like a house on fire.

The cook sobers quickly, frowning a little. 'You hear about Dawn?'

'Yeah,' she admits with a frown of her own, 'she was a nice girl.'

Dawn's death had blindsided almost the entire town – she was the second girl to be murdered in the last week, and people were getting properly frightened.

And while a little fear was good – it kept humans alert to danger – the building hysteria was dangerous. Jason Stackhouse, the town's resident playboy, is prime suspect for both murders, but no-one could honestly think he was the culprit. Jason is dumb as a rock – and Loki acknowledges this as cold hard fact.

The fact a vampire had moved to town a few days before women started dying, however, was not good. A vampire had assuredly not killed Dawn or Maudette - neither woman had been drained of blood – but they had both associated with vampires in the past, and there were murmurs of discontent from the more ignorant locals. Bill – their resident vampire – was not being welcomed. In fact, the town was an ounce of tension away from forming a lynch mob.

Loki could find the murderer with a pinch of magic and the twitch of a finger – but her many years of living on Earth had taught her that humans were fully capable of solving their own problems, and were usually better off when they did.

So she is quite content with sitting back and letting it all play out – and maybe get involved if Lafayette was in trouble.

'Vick?' She's startled abruptly from her thoughts, and looks apologetically to the cook. 'Honey, order-up.'

'Thanks, Lala,' she grabs the plate of gumbo with a smile, 'talk to you later.'

Loki nods politely at Arlene as she passed her – the red-head nosy and close-minded, but her heart is in the right place, so Loki doesn't hold it against her. Her boyfriend, however... Rene sets off every warning signal in her mind. He is fake, fake, fake; fake accent, fake sincerity, fake affection.

And people called _her_the god of lies.

But Loki wouldn't get involved unless he took things a step too far – she's always detested violent men.

As the sun sets, Merlotte's gets busier and busier. Loki doesn't notice Sookie has arrived for work until she bumps elbows with the blonde by the bar.

'Sorry,' she murmurs, studying the woman intently as always. Sookie Stackhouse is an oddity, but a delightful one. Loki never expected to run into a fairy in Midgard, let alone a telepathic one who has no clue what she was. The only problem was that her presence meant Loki has to keep a constant eye on the barrier that protected her mind from intruders – a peek into her mind would make Sookie's brains melt out of her ears.

And Loki knows this from firsthand experience with another mind-reader. It had not been pretty.

'No worries, Vick,' the telepath leans over the bar, 'I need ranch dressing!'

'And two margaritas.' Arlene adds, joining her fellow waitresses. 'That Dawn sure left us high and dry, didn't she?'

Loki winces. _Tactless._

Predictably, Sookie bristles. 'It's not like she meant not to be here.'

'I know, but if she didn't spend her nights off at that vamp bar in Shreveport,' the red-head tuts judgmentally, 'she still would be.'

'Did I just hear you right, Arlene?' The part-fae demands, riled up. 'Vick, are you hearing this?'

Loki carries on pouring drinks like she hadn't just been dragged into the argument, but Arlene puts her hands on her hips defensively.

'Oh, please! Ain't there even a part of you think she had it comin'?'

'No! Not a single part!' The blonde waitress is bursting with indignation, and turns to Loki for support – she studies the two women intently, and then shrugs.

'I've been to vampire bars before,' she tells them, expertly ignoring the gasps of eavesdroppers and locking eyes with Arlene, 'does that mean I deserve to die?'

Arlene flounders, and Sookie nods triumphantly and marches off. Loki waves off the red-heads apologies with a careless shrug, and she flees too.

'Vamp bars?' Sam questions, voice dripping in poorly disguised disgust. 'Never took you for the type.'

Loki regards him cooly from the corner of her eye. She can think of a thousand responses to that – chiefly, pointing out that shifters and vampires are in the same boat when it came to acceptance – but eventually, she merely gives slightly sad smile. 'Hate's all well and good, boss,' she shrugs, 'but it's that kind of attitude that killed Dawn and Maudette.'

She leaves him standing at the bar, looking like she just gave him a roundhouse kick to the head, and doesn't feel the least bit bad about it.

Serves him right for being a bit of a sanctimonious prick.

Twenty minutes later, Loki removed the apron from her waist and pushes through the door into Sam's office only to see Sam and Sookie pause mid-argument and look at her accusatorily.

'Shit, sorry,' she reverses quickly; she did not want to get involved in the angst-y love triangle, thankyouverymuch.

'Wait!' Sam crows, looking triumphant. 'Vick can go with ya!'

'Excuse me?'

'Pardon?'

'She's been to vamp clubs before – right, Vick? – and she can keep _Bill_from trying anything untoward.'

'Sam!' The telepath stomps a foot in pure frustration. 'I do not need a baby-sitter!'

Loki does not point out that the fact that fae-blooded, virginal Sookie Stackhouse is planning to go to a vampire bar with a vampire she'd only known for a week, and rather than a baby-sitter, might need to consider a lobotomy.

Her control over her mouth is limited, though, so she does say: 'I don't mind tagging along.'

The pair of them glance at her in genuine shock, so Loki shrugs.

'It'd probably be safer.' She elaborates, mouth twitching; Sookie would likely never be safer than she would be at Loki's side.

The telepath studies her at length, and then lets out a resigned sigh; Sam looks like he might kiss her from sheer gratitude.

'Fine,' the blonde declares, eyes a little bit relieved, 'change and meet at my house as soon as possible?'

'Sure thing.'

Sookie struts out of the office, and Sam and Loki stare at one another until the dark-haired woman sigh and grabs her handbag from the cubby.

'If I get eaten,' she tells her boss, voice exasperated but fond 'you better cry at my funeral.'

Loki leaves him spluttering, and vehemently curses her weakness for shifters.

xXx

Loki has never met Bill Compton until tonight, but greets him with a polite nod and an easy smile. He returns the gesture stiffly – polite even to the uninvited third-wheel – and opens the car door for her.

She decides, almost immediately, that she doesn't much care for Bon Temps' resident vampire. He's a stiff; condescending, straight-laced and firmly set in his antiquated ways.

Loki has lived a long, long time, even for an Asgardian(2), and she thinks chivalry tedious, knows people can always surprise you, and finds that the ways changed as quickly as the times, so you needed to adapt quickly.

Plus, the way he looks at Sookie... while she was hardly the silly fairy's best friend, she wouldn't appreciate Bill staring at anyone like he'd just won a jackpot – and not in a cute, love-struck way, either.

However, darling Southern belle that she is, Sookie would likely faint if Loki made her opinion known, so she keeps quiet and pretends not to listen as the couple in the front seats flirt outrageously.

Loki hops out the car as soon as it pulled to stop in the dimly lit parking lot, and she surveyed the building with a slight smile. Then, she chokes.

'_Fang_tasia?'

'Indeed,' Bill confirmed, and Loki shakes her head with a chuckle.

'What an awful pun,' she winks at a nervous looking Sookie, 'I like it.'

The blonde chuckles half-heartedly, shoulders set in a tense line, and Bill grasps her hand as they step into the club. Loki trails behind the couple, taking in every inch of the bar in a single, thorough glance. _Fangtasia_is busy, even on a Thursday night, and the gothic red and white decor matches the patrons perfectly – she and Sookie stick out like sore thumbs. While the blonde telepath is dressed in a girlish, white sundress, Loki's emerald green, silk cocktail dress draws attention almost immediately.

If she wasn't a deity from another realm with inconceivable magical powers, she may have flinched.

Their path is blocked by a beautiful, icy vampire in skin-tight black latex. 'Bill. Haven't seen you in a while.'

She speaks with a clinging hint of an English accent, but her tone is completely uninterested – it seems Loki isn't the only one who is not-so-fond of Bill Compton.

'I'm mainstreamin'.' He offers, and she quirks an unimpressed eyebrow.

'Good for you.' Glacial blue eyes swing to Sookie. 'Who's the doll?'

'Pam, this is Sookie. Sookie, this is Pam.' The black-haired woman clears her throat pointedly, making Bill jolt a little and glance back. 'And this is Victoria.'

'Pleased to meet you.' Loki greets, echoed by the telepath. Sookie extends her hand to Pam, who looks disdainfully at it. Sookie pulls a puzzled face, but retracts her hand bashfully.

'Can I see your ID's?'

Sookie smiles and gives an awkward laugh. 'Oh. Sure. How funny.' She glances at Loki for support. 'Who'd have thought? Getting' carded at a vampire bar.'

'Older vampires have trouble telling human ages.' Loki comments absently, studying the room – then realises that both Pam and Bill are staring at her with a degree of interest, and flashes them a bimbo smile as she hands over her driving licence. 'Or so I've heard.'

'You're well informed, Ms. Storm,' Pam concedes, a devilish smirk flitting across her lips, 'I'll remember that.'

Loki takes her ID back carefully, and decides it may be best to play dumb for the remainder of the night.

The three of them move deeper into _Fangtasia_, Loki once more trailing behind her companions and only listening to their conversation half-heartedly. It really isn't anything like the vampire clubs she'd been to in New York – but she's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Loki is sensitive to magic, and always has been; vampires have their own unique magic signature that feels like fingers dragging teasingly down her spine. It's the power that gives them life, and life energy always tastes the best to her... and vampires are something dark and sinful and decadent.

It's like giving a tiger cat-nip.

Loki is bought rudely back to reality when Sookie taps her shoulder. 'D'ya want a drink, Vick?'

'Yeah. Sure.' The bartender is a tattooed, native American vampire with long, black hair, wearing a black leather vest. He doesn't smile when he greets them – Loki has forgotten how un-fun some vamps can be.

'How's it goin', Bill?'

'Very well.'

He leers at Sookie and Loki. 'I'll say it is. Two humans is a little greedy for a meal.'

Bill shifts uncomfortably. 'These are my friends, Sookie and Victoria. Ladies, this is Longshadow.'

'I'll have a gin and tonic, please.'

'A whiskey sour, please, heavy on the whisky.'

'And I'll have a bottle of O Negative.'

Longshadow sets about making their drinks at vampire speed, and Sookie watches with wide eyes – Loki is too busy grinning at the sight of a young male fangbanger undressing Bill with his eyes to even notice. The dark-haired vampire notices her amusement, and straightens his posture self-consciously.

'Longshadow, Sookie here would like to know if she could ask you a few questions. Would this be acceptable?' The native American man nods, accepting the two Polaroid photographs of Dawn and Maudette – even though she is still gazing at the crowd, Loki's attention is on her companions.

'I just have a couple of pictures I'd love you to take a look at. You recognize either of these women?' The part-fae waitress is bouncing a little on her heels in nervous anticipation, and Bill plants a stilling hand on her shoulder.

'Yeah,' Longshadow admits after a moment, 'I seen 'em both here before.'

Sookie grins from ear to ear. 'Great, thank you. And do you also happen to remember who they hung around with?'

'That's something we don't notice here.' He shoots her a dark, warning look. 'You won't either.'

The blonde gulps. 'OK, then. Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time.'

But apparently, Longshadow isn't finished – he holds up the picture of Maudette. 'This one - she wanted to die.'

'How do you know?'

'Everyone who comes here does, in their own way.' He gaze flicks between the two women. 'That's who we are: Death.'

Loki's genial smile sharpens into a smirk for a fraction of a second – what would Hel (3) say to that? – but Sookie seems genuinely thrown by the cryptic comment, so Bill snatches up her drink and his bottle of blood and ushers the blonde towards a vacant table against the back wall. Loki moves to follow, but a hand on her arm halts her progress.

Ancient and deeply ingrained instincts flare up. _He shouldn't be touching you_, they hiss, _destroy him for it_– she stamps them down with practised ease, and puts on a human mask of surprise as she turns back to the bartender.

There is a dangerous moment where his stone-cold hand lingers on her skin, and Loki speeds her pulse in a deliberate gesture of fear. Longshadow smirks cruelly when he feels the false thrum her heart, and withdraws.

'You're drink, miss.'

The primordial voice in her mind wants to crush him for enjoying what he perceives to be her fear, her weakness. It would be so _easy_ Loki wouldn't even need her sorcery to do it – she could reach out and rip his un-beating heart from his chest before any of the vampires present knew what was going on.

But she merely laughs weakly, playing the part of flustered human, and sheepishly takes the glass from his grasp before scurrying over to Bill and Sookie, waving off their concerned looks.

Really, maybe it has been too long since she had partaken in a good bit of bloodshed.

Loki sits beside Sookie, tightening the glamour that keeps the telepath oblivious to the fact she can't hear Loki's thoughts, and sips her drink – her father would chide her for trivial pleasures, but she really loves good whiskey.

'Who's that?'

Bill huffs at the blonde's question. 'Oh, you noticed him, did you?'

Sookie splutters, blushing. 'No, it's not like that. I just..'

'Everyone does.' He assures. 'That's Eric. He's the oldest thing in this bar.'

Loki glances up, curious to see the oldest vampire in Area 5, and her eyes widen in shock.

Eric is seated in the large chair on the stage, not looking at the bald man with a moustache who is kneeling in front of him. When the bald man touches Eric's knee, he is immediately and brutally kicked away. The human man flies halfway across the club, and lands on the floor, head bleeding. Half the vampires in the establishment drop-fang when faced with fresh blood & raw violence, but Loki barely notices, transfixed on the blonde in his throne.

Even a touch of faith leaves an imprint on a person's soul – Sookie and Bill, for example, are steeped in Christianity – but this man is _hers._ She sees a too-skinny boy, rough-housing with his brothers on the shore of the North Sea and boldly informing them in a sweet, unbroken voice that "Loki is the most cunning of gods! He'd defeat any army with words alone!" Then, a gangly, untested teen praying to her for the skill to lie to his father when questioned on the missing horse.

("I didn't mean to let her loose," he whispers, hands clasped and head bowed in prayer as he kneels before the archaic stone shrine, "but Father will beat me to learn the truth!")

And a handsome, oh-so sought after man – the chieftains' son and a brave warrior and unmarried – whispering dark, sultry promises to a chesty serving-wench. "My tongue has talents that could rival Loki's own" he tells her as he lays her down on his hay-bed, and then almost, _almost_lives up to the boast. And a furious, snarling beast of a man, desperate and broken after having just seen his family – his tribe -ribbed to shreds by wolves and their bloodstained master.

She remembers it; remembers pausing in whatever she'd been doing at the time when the prayer ripped through her soul. "_Grant me the cunning for vengeance, Loki, and the strength of mind to see my task to its end"_the Viking had roared, and she had sent him a blessing without a second thought. Anyone with the conviction to make himself heard over thousands of tiny whispers of prayer, she'd thought at the time, would surely deserve to be heard.

Even now the Viking – Eric – is bathing in it, the glow of her own magic still so potent after all this time. It's a surprise, as blessings tend to fade within an average human lifespan, but Loki is glad for it.

She can understand the importance of revenge.

Loki studies him, sprawled in his throne and as gorgeous as one of her fellow Asgardians, and is suddenly, intensely proud that he has survived this far_._

_The night is certainly looking up._

* * *

Author's note: Eric is here! I hope the storyline doesn't seem too rushed – I just wanted to get into the Season One storyline.

(1) In Norse Mythology, Loki is often described as a shapeshifter – the magic my OC possesses is mostly inspired by the Avengers!Loki (who I adore).

(2) Asgardians are the people of Asgard (see the Prologue's A.N.)

(3) Hel is the Goddess who rules over "Hel", the Norse equivalent of the underworld. In mythology, she is Loki's daughter, but she's her cousin in this fic.


	3. Chapter Two

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humor/Romance/Drama

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,137

Summary: Loki Odindottir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

* * *

Chapter Two.

'Vick,' Sookie elbows her sharply in the ribs, 'you're starin'.'

Loki rubs her side, quirking an eyebrow at the blonde. '...and?'

'It, well, you...' she splutters, 'it's _rude._'

'Sook, if he didn't want to be stared at, he wouldn't be sitting in a_ throne_.' She bumps shoulders with the other woman with a slightly lewd grin. 'He's quite a dish, right?'

Bill stills to hear the answer to that, but Sookie wisely changes the subject.

'All anyone's thinkin' about here is sex, sex, sex.'

The dark-haired vampire smiles. 'One needn't be telepathic to pick up on that.'

Over on the stage, Pam glides towards the Viking and leans down to whisper in his ear. When he tilts his head to glance in their direction Loki is struck by the fluidity of the movement. It's the careful, warning way a predator moves when hunting for its prey – one that speaks of awareness of every muscle and bone and utter _purpose _– but she meets his ocean blue eyes unflinchingly with a determinedly neutral expression, intrigued by how he will react to such an openly challenging gesture.

She's the one to break the eye contact first after a drawn out moment of eye-contact, but is both satisfied and unsurprised when Bill tenses minutely.

'Uh, oh.'

'Don't say "uh-oh."' Sookie reprimands with a high, nervous chuckle. 'Vampires are not supposed to say "uh-oh."'

Loki snickers because it's _true, _and Bill's frown deepens.

'We're being "summoned".' She informs the telepath calmly, pre-empting his explanation – Sookie just looks more agitated by the explanation.

'By who?'

'Eric.'

Sookie blinks, turning to Bill with raised brows, indignation forgotten in the face of curiousity. 'He can do that?'

'Yeah.' He concedes, not sounding pleased at all.

So he _is _the Sheriff – Loki had supposed as much from the throne and its very deliberate position above and away from the crowd, but the confirmation in Bill's words is satisfying. She likes knowing what she's up against.

Across the room, Eric raises his right hand and motions them over, every inch the austere ruler of his own kingdom. Bill takes Sookie's hand to guide her through the throngs of dancers, and Sookie snatches Loki's at the last moment to keep them all from getting separated. They all step up onto the dais, standing before him; Sookie is shaking gently in nerves, and Bill is absolutely still, but Loki is so at ease she could be lining up in the supermarket.

The situation reminds her of the first time she encountered a fully-grown Siberian tiger on her first hunt with her father in Midgard over three-thousand years ago (1). "_Show no fear," _Odin had commanded in a stern whisper, "_and you will not be seen as prey." _Loki supposes it is a fairly accurate parallel.

'Bill Compton.' The Viking acknowledges their chaperone with a nod, his voice a deep rumble. 'It has been a while.'

Bill shifts uneasily in the face of Eric's emotionless stare. 'Yes, well... I've been– '

'Mainstreaming.' The older vampire finishes for him. 'I heard. I see that is...'

Eric gives Loki such a thorough once-over she feels like she should be blushing, then does the same to Sookie – who _does _blush.

' ...going well for you.'

'Yes, of course. Uh, sorry.' Obviously slightly flustered, Bill gestures to the telepath. 'Eric, these are my friends–'

'Sookie Stackhouse and Victoria Storm.'

Loki doesn't react to his knowledge, but Sookie jolts. 'How do you know my name?'

'I never forget a pretty face.' Pam answers for Eric, pointing to her temple and smirking. 'You're in my vault.'

The part-fae gulps, smile weakening a tad. 'Great. That's just great.'

Both blonde vampires turn to Loki in almost eerie unison, staring at her expectantly. Obviously, they want her to react – to freak out over the big, scary vampires - and she knows should play along for the sake of appearing average, but... she had never been good at doing what was best.

"_Show no fear..."_

So she merely quirks an eyebrow at them both – Pam's jaw almost drops open in surprise.

'_Our little zoo is starting to grow,_' Eric comments to Pam in flawless Swedish and the woman smirks. She must be his lieutenant, Loki muses, or possibly his progeny. for them to be conversing so comfortably in another language.

'_I know._'

Sookie and Bill exchange a confused look, butLoki – aware of just how accurate the description of the supernatural smorgasbord in Renard Parish is – can't contain a huff of amusement, inadvertently drawing attention from the three vampires. She very pointedly doesn't look at anyone, but doesn't dampen her smirk even when the weight of Eric's stare on her skin is like a physical touch.

'Miss Stackhouse,' he addresses the telepath eventually, 'I understand you've been asking questions about some of my customers.'

'Yes, I have.'

'If you have anything to ask,' the leather upholstery of his chair creaks as Eric leans forward, 'you should ask it of me.'

Sookie hands the Viking the Polaroid's, and he studies them carefully, before humming in acknowledgment and confirming that – though he'd met them both – he'd only ever "tasted" Dawn.

'I remember 'em both.' Pam adds.

'On account of the vault?' Sookie pipes in daringly, and Loki pretends not to notice the tense silence as she chuckles. Stackhouse hasguts, even if openly mouthing off to powerful vampires was ill-advised_. _'Well, thanks, but that's all I need from y'all...'

'I'm not finished with you yet.' Eric cuts in, his very pores oozing the command and making Bill tense even as the Viking attempts a reassuring smile. 'Please. Sit.'

Reluctantly, Bill and Sookie do so; Loki looks expectantly at the Sheriff when she notices there are no more chairs to sit in.

Eric gaze if full to the brim with challenge when he pats his lap pointedly.

And oh, he is so full of ego – Loki has always loved a narcissistic alpha male. But she's a hardly a wilting flower herself so, of course, she squeezes onto the edge of Sookie's chair. The waitress obligingly shuffles over to make room, and there's a sharp flash of... something in Eric's face – amusement, Loki suspects – but it is gone as quickly as it appears.

But his eyes don't leave hers even as he addresses Bill. 'So, Bill. Are you especially... attached to either of your friends?'

The younger vampire growls. 'Sookie is mine!'

'Yes. I am his.' The blonde confirms, lifting her chin proudly. Loki is left to ponder somewhat despairingly when being claimed as property became something to be proud of.

Eric just smiles like the cat who caught the canary. 'And Ms. Storm?'

'She...' Bill falters, shooting her a wide-eyed glance. Loki very nearly sighs in annoyance - Sookie's boyfriend has a very irritating habit of acting like a knight on a white horse, and Loki hasn't needed saving in a very long time – but refrains from commenting, maintaining a firm grip on her neutral expression.

'Well, well,' Pam zooms to her side when the silence begins to stretch and twirls a lock of raven hair around a finger, voice a seductive drawl, 'seems you're free game.'

Loki smiles blandly up at the beautiful vampire. 'I prefer to think of myself as "my own".'

Eric and Pam exchange amused looks – the ones that read _"oh, look at this silly human"_ – but resume conversation with Bill.

Pam doesn't stop playing with her hair, though. Loki doesn't mind much despite the dangerously close proximity of the vampire's hand to her neck and the reflexive indignation at being petted like an animal; playing with hair is probably as non-threatening as Pam ever gets.

Then a shiver chases down Loki's spine, and her head snaps suddenly to the crowd. There's an odd tension filling the air – the whisper of cool wind in the calm before the storm – and it sets her on edge immediately. 'Sook,' she whispers, nudging the part-fae, 'something's wrong.'

Pam's hand stills.

Sookie tilts her head curiously, but scans through the thoughts of the crowd without question, and almost immediately the telepath's eyes widen.

'We have to get out of here.' She blurts, cutting Eric off mid-sentence.

'Sookie...' Bill shoots her a warning glance and, seeing he'll be no help, she turns to the Sheriff.

'Eric, the cops are coming. There's gonna be a raid...'

Now _this _gets his attention.

'You're not an undercover cop, are-'

'I'm not,' the telepath assures quickly, 'but that man in the hat is.'

Eric studies her face for a long moment, gaze flicking to Loki for a moment before he relaxes back into his chair. 'Even if you're right, we do nothing illegal here.'

'There's a vampire named Taryn in the ladies' room with that man you kicked before. She's feeding on him.'

Loki knows Sookie's words are true – now she's concentrating, she can actually sense the bloodlust from her seat – but the information makes both Pam and Eric tense.

Loki is honestly surprised that none of the numerous vampires in the room had caught the scent of freshly spilled blood. _So much for superior senses._

'How do you know this?' Pam demands tersely, but the main door flies open with a bang before Sookie can even open her mouth to explain.

'Freeze!'

The room is quickly flooded of cops, and some fangbangers start screaming in panic. On stage three vampires, one part-fae and an Asgardian are caught in almost serene stillness of disbelief – until Eric stands.

'Follow me.'

Sookie has latched onto Bill's arm, looking scared, but Loki is more than a little surprised when Eric holds out his palm for her to take.

She stares up into his face with fathomless green eyes, and it feels as though the world holds its breath as she reaches out to take his hand.

Her life-magic flares and twirls with his own (2), a beautiful clash of gold and a deep almost-black colour that reminds Loki of the twilight sky devoid of stars. It's hypnotizing, and she idly thinks that it's a shame she's the only one to see it.

But then she's being yanked out the back door of _Fangtasia _and into the warm night air_, _Eric drops her appendage, and all that's left of it is the burn of light on the back of her eyelids and pins and needles in the spot where their skin had met.

'I enjoyed meeting you, Miss Storm. You will come again.'

He and Pam disappear into the dark within the time it takes to blink, but Loki hadn't missed the odd light in Eric's eyes as he said this, and she knows it probably doesn't bode well for her continued peaceful existence.

(She should probably be disappointed; as it is, all Loki feels is a foreign burn of anticipation.)

xXx

Loki doesn't give Eric Northman more than passing thought in the next few days (as fascinating as he is, she does work full-time) but is surprised to find Bill on her doorstep some days after the trip to _Fangtasia_.

'Hey,' she says, raising both eyebrows, 'nice to see you.'

This is... not strictly true. The last time she had he'd glamoured a cop and thoroughly freaked out Sookie. Loki isn't naive enough to expect much better from vampires when faced with prejudiced law-enforcement, but Bill had been acting like a bit of an ass.

'Ms. Storm,' he greets, solemn and gentlemanly as always, 'I'd like to apologise for my behaviour the last time we saw eachother – I hope it did not scare you.'

His words are almost scripted, so she figures quickly that either Sookie put him up to this, or it's a ploy to win the telepath's favour – the question of why he is trying so hard to gain the silly fairy's attention is heavy on her mind. _Curiouser and curiouser._

'It's fine, Bill,' she assures casually, tone a little wry, 'I _have _met vampires before, you know.'

'But you must know I am different to others – I am not a savage who glamours all in my path. I merely lost my temper.'

'Of course,' Loki nods, humouring him.

Bill's shoulders relax minutely at what he takes to be acceptance, and returns to his blank mask briskly. 'Will I be seeing you at _Descendants of the Glorious Dead_ meeting later?'

'Uh, no, sorry,' she shrugs, 'I'm working.'

He nods stiffly, and zooms away from her house at vampire speed. Loki chuckles a little once he's out of sight, turning back into her home; Really, imagine her in a church, listening to a vampire tell tales of the Civil War. Funny.

xXx

The news of Adele Stackhouse's murder makes Loki feel guilty.

She'd never met Sookie's "Gran", but she knows that the woman was well loved and incredibly important to both her grandchildren.

Loki sighs and runs a hand over face. Mortals are so fragile, but the reminder always prompts a swell of grief in her stomach. She has made – and lost – many friends and lovers over the years. Loki is a substantially powerful being, but even she can't bring the dead back to life.

(Well... she _could_, but meddling with Hel was ill-advised and reincarnation would require borrowing her cousin's powers. Loki's knows better than to even consider it.)

She hadn't gone to the funeral – honestly, Loki hates them – but she had offered to cover all of Sookie's shifts until the telepath was ready to go back to work. The blonde had told her over the phone that she was thankful but would be working as normal, tone strangely chipper.

And then she arrives at work with a green scarf around her neck, and Loki sighs quietly.

The people of Bon Temps will not be kind.

So when the inevitable happens, and Sam rips the green scarf from Sookie's neck, exposing her fang marks, Loki wants to face-palm.

'Hey, you keep your hands to yourself, Sam Merlotte!'

'You're a damn fool, you know that?' he spits back at her, seething.

'What I do on my own time is no concern of yours,' Sookie glares at the on-looking diners, raising her voice, 'or any of y'all's. Yes! I had sex with Bill, and since every one of y'all's too chicken to ask, it was great! I enjoyed every second of it. And if you don't like that, you can just fire me!'

Sookie storms away, slamming her tray onto the bar with a crack. At the very least, Loki thinks, it had taken serious guts to announce it so proudly.

But she supposes it's her job to do some damage control.

'You're a fucking idiot,' she informs her boss, tone blasé, as he stomps towards his office. He rounds on her with an almost-growl.

'What?'

'Someone in this town is murdering women who have slept with vampires,' she reminds him sternly, 'and what do you do? Scream Sook's business for the whole bar to hear.'

Sam's jaw is clenched, but a flash of uncertainty crosses his eyes. 'I... I just want her safe!'

'Yeah, well,' Loki rolls her eyes – _the idiocy of men_ – and grabs a glass of ice tea from the side table, 'think before you act, boss, coz you just put her in even more danger.'

She flounces back to work with a slight frown, ignoring the niggling urge to knock some sense into her boss's skull.

Predictably, the gossip spreads like wildfire, and by the time the sun sets almost everyone in Bon Temps is aware that "Crazy Sookie" has slept with a vampire. The telepath handles the whispers and the disgusted looks with remarkable grace, though, soldiering on as if it were a normal night at _Merlotte's_.

Then three vampires enter the bar with a whoosh, and Loki has the feeling that things are all shot to hell.

The oldest, dark-haired vamp – Malcolm, Loki plucks from Sookie's head – approaches the bar with a slimy smirk. 'Get us three Tru:Bloods.'

'Y'all need to go somewhere else.' Sam shoots back, muscles tensed. 'This is a family place. Locals only.'

All three of them laugh darkly. 'Well, we just closed on a place up the road, so that makes us official citizens of Renard Parish. We're the new locals.'

Everyone watching inhales sharply, but the shifter stands his ground.

'My place, my rules.'

'Discrimination against vampires is punishable by law in the great state of Louisiana. Personally, I don't give a fuck...' Malcolm looks around the room with a dangerous sneer. '...but I ...am...thirsty.'

Sam comes round the bar to stand before the vampire, growling. 'You. Are. Not. Welcome here.'

The vampire in the hideous gold dress – Diane – laughs mockingly. 'That shit only works in a private home.'

Almost simultaneously, they notice the part-fae waitress standing in the dining area. 'Oh! How nice to see you again, Sookie!' Malcolm saunters over, coming to a halt an inch away from the unsettled blonde. 'You are looking delectable as always.'

Sam blanches. 'You know them?'

'We've met.'

'Well, well!' The trio of vamps notice the bite marks on Sookie's neck, and sneer. 'It looks like Little Miss Holdout has given up the goods. Brava! Did he leave enough for the rest of us?'

Sookie tilts her head, jaw set defiantly even though her hands tremble imperceptibly at her sides. 'I am _his_.'

'Well, "he" is not here, is he? And while Bill's away, Malcolm will always play.'

The vampire drops-fang, and everyone watching flinches. Loki knows this situation could end in a slaughter – three vampires could easily drain most of the occupants of the restaurant – and she moves briskly to stand by Sookie's side.

'Sookie has been acknowledged as "Bill's" by the Sheriff.' she informs Malcolm calmly, and he falters minutely.

'That so?'

The telepath shoots Loki a wide-eyed look of confusion – she shoots an image of Eric Northman into her head, and Sookie immediately regains some confidence and nods.

Then the bald, tattooed vampire – Liam – scoffs. 'He ain't _my _sheriff.'

'Really? Coz, you did just say you'd moved into the area.' Loki reminds in her best smart-ass tone, making his scowl deepen.

Loki looses a wisp of her magic, and it curls around them, a stream of blue smoke twisting around their heads. "_Leave," _it whispers, "_and don't come back." _

Mind control is difficult even on humans, and with vampires it can be outright unpredictable; when she sees the retreat dawning on their faces Loki gives a mental sigh of relief. But then Terry screams and charges at Malcolm, eyes wide and crazed. With lightning speed, Diane grabs Terry and throws him across the room, landing on the pool table with a dull thud. Sam breaks a pool cue in half over his leg, pointing the thick part of it toward Malcolm, who laughs dangerously.

'You are a dead man.' He purrs.

Sam shrugs, grip his weapon only shaking a little. 'Maybe. But I'm gonna take one of y'all with me.'

_Well, fuck. _Loki can't help but wonder if anyone ever taught the shifter the difference between courage and stupidity.

Sam charges at Malcolm, but the makeshift stake is snatched deftly from his hand and hurled like a javelin to the stack of glasses behind the bar. Arlene screams in terror as Liam hauls Sam on his back over the bar, meaty hand clamped around his jaw.

'I'm gonna reach down your throat and yank you inside out by your dick.' The bald vampire purrs, fangs gleaming eerily.

'Please! Leave him alone!' Sookie cries – Loki grabs her by her shoulders to stop her from running over.

But then Bill appears, and the blonde in her arms sags with relief.

'Stop this! Now!' Liam hesitates before reluctantly backing away from Sam. 'You're here for me, not them!'

Malcolm shrugs as though he hadn't just been about to drain the whole bar. 'We had to get your attention, and I do believe it worked.'

'What do you want?' Bill barks.

'You never call me back. Now, if I remembered what feelings were, mine might be hurt.'

Diane is abruptly at Bill's side, stroking his cheek seductively. 'Join our nest, Bill. Forget these blood sacks.'

Loki watches impassively as Bill leaves with them, spouting some rubbish about "being with his own kind", and squeezes a heartbroken Sookie on the shoulder before moving over to her boss.

'Are you hurt?'

He runs a hand through his hair. 'I'm fine, cher,' he throws her a look of fond concern, reaching out to squeeze her upper-arm, 'but you shouldn't have gotten involved. It was dangerous.'

'Yeah,' she concedes, then raises a raises a sarcastic eyebrow, 'dangerous like trying to stake 'em?'

His lips twitch. 'Touché.'

xXx

Loki goes home with Lafayette that night – the two of them have more sleepovers than twelve-year-old girls – and she collapses onto his sofa while he heads straight to the liquor cabinet.

'Woo, Sook's crazy to have anythin' to do with those fangers,' he breathes. She shrugs.

'Mm, maybe,' Loki breathes, excepting offered glass of tequila with a nod of thanks, 'I think they're kinda like people, though.'

'What'choo mean?'

Lafayette settles on the armchair opposite her, regarding her seriously and sipping straight from the bottle.

'Well, they aren't good, or bad; shades of grey, you know?' she tells him plainly, then smirks, 'Even if maybe there's more darkness in them than most humans.'

He laughs, and raises the bottle in a toast of agreement. 'Say... you know 'bout vamp politics and shit, right?'

She hums in agreement. The truth is, Loki probably knows more about the vampire government than the human one – it didn't change as often.

'Then, what would they do... to someone sellin' V?'

Loki stares at Lafayette very seriously, and when he resolutely avoids her gaze, she sits up abruptly.

'Shit,' she breathes in a whisper, 'you're _not._'

'That bad, huh?' He murmurs with a smile of fake bravado.

How did she miss it? She knows that Lafayette works his ass off to keep his schizophrenic mother in a decent care-home, _knows_ he's a dealer. Vampire blood is the drug of choice these days – it would only be logical to assume he sold it, too, but she hadn't even considered it. It makes her feel like a complete idiot, and worse, a shitty friend. 'You need to stop.'

He kisses his teeth. 'Bitch, I know,' he draws a joint from his pocket, lighting it smoothly. 'but at least I ain't hooked like Stackhouse.'

Loki groans in disbelief, flopping back on the sofa. Jason fuckin' Stackhouse needs V like he needs a hole in the head.

'There's so much fucking _drama _in this town,' she grumbles, 'small towns are crazy.'

He huffs in amused agreement. 'Damn straight.' He hands her the spliff, which she inhales readily, but he slumps. 'But fer real; what would they do if they knew?'

Loki blows out a ring of smoke, eyes fixed on the ceiling and in deep thought.

'You don't want to know, Lala,' she comments grimly and pretends not to notice his sharp inhalation of breath, 'but I'll protect you if they come after you.'

Lafayette laughs it off like it's a joke, but Loki wiggles her fingers in concentration as she weaves a tight protection spell and sends it floating his way. It settles on his skin like oil, and he shivers as if someone just walked over his grave. To her eyes only, his skin flares with light as his own power stirs at the intrusion of foreign magic – she is struck, once again, by the astounding _potential _of the man across from her (3).

But, besides Lafayette's remarkable and mostly untapped power, he's her only real friend in Bon Temps; she isn't about to let him get killed for something as inconsequential as selling drugs.

'You gonna give me that make-over or what?' She demands after a moment, killing the tense atmosphere stone-dead. Lafayette tuts, jumping to his feet.

'Yeah, yeah, princess,' he calls over his shoulder, 'you iz _spoiled._'

Loki laughs uproariously – he has no idea how true the pet-name is – but pushes herself up to bound after him.

'I'll give you a pedicure as a prize for putting up with me.' She promises sweetly, and he leers down at her, slapping her backside.

'Just pay me wit' your body, baby,' he wiggles his eyebrows, 'I could put you on my 'site.'

Loki gives a mock-outraged squeak at the proposal, hand flying to her heart dramatically. '_Please,_ as if I'd go on your porn site for anything less than ten grand.'

'You may be hot shit,' he tells her dryly, 'but you ain't _that _hot.'

She grins and playfully shoves his shoulder, and when the coat of protective magic flares around her hand, halting any pain or bruising, Loki is content in the fact that at least _one _person in this town is safe.

* * *

Author's Note: I am a little un-easy about this chapter – I love Eric, but so much of the _True Blood _storyline revolves around his infatuation with Sookie that it's hard to write an OC romantic interest without just recycling every Sookie/Eric interaction. Nonetheless, I hope you like it, and _huge _love to everyone who reviewed, followed and favourite'd.

(1) Siberian tigers are the largest of the subspecies of tigers, and live (in the wild) almost solely in The Sikhote-Alin, a mountain range in Primorsky and Khabarovsk Krais, Russia. I'm unsure as to where they lived three-thousand years ago, but scientists speculate that the earliest tigers appeared after the extension of the dinosaurs. (In other words, tigers have been around a long, long time.)

(2) I just want to clarify the topic. In this fic, everything has "life-magic", and while Loki can sense it all, it is particularly strong in vampires and other supes, so it's more prominent.

(3) This is a bit of a S3/4 spoiler, but I didn't want to ignore Lafayette's power completely. If Jesus can sense it in Season 3, then it makes sense that Loki knows about it now.


	4. Chapter Three

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humor/Romance/Drama

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 3, 397

Summary: Loki Odindottir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

* * *

Chapter Three.

In the end, the nest of vampires didn't cause any trouble.

Mostly because they were burned alive the same night they came into _Merlotte's _by some riled up red-necks. From the point of view of a sympathetic third-party outsider, it was an awful act of hate against the un-dead. But Loki certainly isn't said outsider and, even if their deaths were for all the wrong reasons, she could hardly say she would mourn Liam, Diane and Malcolm.

To "turn the other cheek" is a pretty, passive notion; Loki is two-thousand years older than Jesus and very much a warrior at heart. The vampires would have caused a great deal of trouble in Bon Temps; she can't say their deaths were a bad thing.

The fact that a local kid had been caught in the fire, however, is enough to shake her pragmatic nature. Collateral damage, she muses, is often overlooked for the sake of the bigger picture. But having lived thousands of life-times, Loki knows without a doubt that such an attitude can result in atrocities in the name of the "greater good".

Not to mention that, on top of this, Tara's mother had gotten a five-hundred dollar voodoo exorcism. Loki does her best not to laugh outright when Lafayette tells her about it; Lettie-May Thornton needs help, certainly, but more of the "Alcoholics Anonymous" kind.

And don't even get her started on Jason's flavour of the week (who reeks of vampire blood and insanity and spiritual "Gaia" bullshit).

She should be annoyed – the whole point of moving to Bon Temps was to have a decade of peace and quiet – but Loki has always loved a bit of chaos, and she's had more fun in her months in Louisiana than the eleven years she lived in New York combined.

Nevertheless, she does at least attempt to stay out of the drama, working long shifts at the bar to distract herself. It's at the end of a twelve-to-ten run when Bill approaches her.

'Mr. Compton,' she nods politely, 'glad to see you're not dead.'

To be honest, if it hadn't been for Sookie's honest despair at the rumours that Bill had been caught in the fire, Loki would have probably not given a damn. But as it was, she'd run a scan with her magic and found him peacefully in the ground of the town cemetery and assured the telepath everything would be fine.

'...Thank you.' As perturbed as ever by her blunt manner, the vampire attempts a smile. 'Eric has requested your presence at _Fangtasia _tonight.'

'Pardon?'

Bill sighs. 'I'll explain on the way.'

xXx

'So, let me get this straight,' Loki comments, cramped into the backseat of Bill's car, 'Eric needs a favour...'

'Yes.'

'-and he needs Sookie's telepathy for it...'

'Indeed.'

'-and he wants me there because he thinks I have some sort of talent, too?'

'That is correct.' Bill confirms.

'Well,' Loki deadpans, 'that's just fantastic.'

She may enjoy Eric Northman, but even she is wise enough to be a little wary of the Viking's attention.

In the front seat, Sookie huffs and adjusts her hold on the bunch of roses in her arms. 'Vick's right – this is ridiculous.'

'You said you wanted to go out tonight.' Bill cajoles his girlfriend.

'But not with Vick here!'

Loki's sarcastic "gee, thanks" is ignored.

'And not _Fangtasia_! I mean, really, all those pathetic people who come here looking for sex with vampires?'

The cars falls quiet as they pull into the parking lot of the bar, then:

'Oh, how awful.'

'I know. It's despicable.'

Loki catches Bill's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and they share a snicker.

Sookie shakes her head in frustration. 'You know what I mean!' She climbs smoothly from the car, peering up at the glowing _Fangtasia _sign a little anxiously. 'So, what, five, ten minutes?'

'As long as Eric requires us.' Bill informs them solemnly.

'You mean as long as he requires _me_.' The part-fae reminds her boyfriend, unimpressed. 'Didn't even have the decency to ask me himself.'

'You are mine. He didn't need to ask your permission.'

'Could have asked for _mine._' Loki mutters. And is ignored. Again.

_Once upon a time, heads would have rolled for such insolence, _the Asgardian thinks with a wistful hum, placidly following the couple across the tarmac towards the bar.

'He cannot check me out like a library book!' Sookie continues with a shriek, outraged by the idea. Bill sighs in the face of the infamous Stackhouse temper.

'Unfortunately, Sookie, he can. Eric is Sheriff of Area Five.'

'Sheriff?' She glances back at Loki. 'Is that what you meant when you warned Malcolm off the other night?'

The black-haired woman nods, and Bill throws her a wary look.

'How did you know Eric was Sheriff?'

'Lucky guess,' she shrugs, 'and the throne kind of gave it away.'

'It's a position of great power among our kind.' He explains, shrugging off Loki's knowledge for the moment. 'We do not want to anger him! As long as the requests are reasonable, we should accede to his wishes.'

The telepath seethes silently, but the taller woman can't really help herself.

'You're a bit of a suck-up, you know that?'

Sookie giggles, even as Bill shoots Loki a glare. She smiles serenely in response.

The three of them are welcomed into the club by a smirking Pam, a stoic Longshadow and a pale, sweaty human man. Loki observes the chilly atmosphere with twinkling eyes.

'Friendly atmospherehere, huh?' She mutters to her fellow waitress, and her words are gunshot loud in the near-empty bar. Even so, Loki ignores the looks she receives and strides purposefully towards the bar, shooting Longshadow a blinding smile. 'Can I get a rum and coke?'

He stares at her blankly for a moment, then obliges grudgingly.

There's a whoosh of displaced air, and Eric is suddenly beside her, dressed in a black wife-beater and tight black jeans and looking just as delicious as last time.

'Such a pleasure to see you again, Ms Storm.' He damn near _purrs_, looming over her despite her significant height.

'Mr Northman,' Loki raises her glass in greeting, 'I wish I could say the same, but you've taken over my Friday night.'

His lips purse minutely at the blatant disrespect, but he doesn't move to reprimand her for it and instead leers down at her. 'Believe me, I can think of things I'd rather be doing with _you_ tonight, also.'

Despite her act of annoyance, Loki can't help but smirk at Eric's persistence. 'You're a regular Casanova, aren't you?'

Leant against the far wall, Pam chuckles; The Sheriff ignores both his progeny and her comment, but his own amusement shimmers of his skin like steam.

'Unfortunately, I didn't ask you here for a drink,' he leans closer, reaching out a large hand of run a cool finger down the column of her throat, 'though, that could be arranged...'

Loki ignores the deliberate invasion of personal space, taking a defiant sip of her drink as she meets his eyes. 'What _did _you ask me here for?'

Seemingly remembering himself, Eric straightens, mask of professionalism settling over his handsome face.

'Pam, Longshadow and I are partners in this club.' He tells the room at large, moving to circle the table at which Sookie has settled. 'And we recently noticed that sixty-thousand dollars has gone missing from our books. And Bruce...'

He comes to a halt before the telepath, standing directly behind the sweaty man who sits across from her.

'...is our accountant. Perhaps you can start by listening to him.'

The blonde plays dumb, tilting her head innocently. 'He's not saying anything.'

'Don't be coy.' Eric reprimands sharply, an edge of impatience to his tone. 'It's humbling enough to turn to a human for assistance. We know what you can do.'

'And I know what you can do, too.' Sookie counters – the girl has quite the backbone. 'Why don't you just glamour him?'

'Now, don't you think we might have tried everything before summoning you?' He stares down at the blonde. 'So...it would be a great favour to me – and to Mr. Compton – if you help us.'

Sookie considers the Viking seriously. 'If I find out who did it, then what?'

'We'll turn that person over to police and let the authorities handle it from there.' Longshadow tells her from behind the bar, and Loki cocks a disbelieving eyebrow.

'You're a terrible liar,' she tells him in a stage-whisper. The bartender drops-fang to hiss at her – Loki doesn't flinch.

'Vick's right,' Sookie agrees, looking at Eric intently. 'I'll make you a deal: If you promise to hand over the person who did this to the police, I'll agree to help you any time you want.'

Bill opens his mouth to protest, but Eric speaks quickly. 'All right. Why not?'

Loki has the feeling that the part-fae will end up regretting that particular deal, but chooses not to comment for now. However...

'And _why _am I here?'

The vampires all turn their attention to her, expressions ranging from irritated to amused, but it's Pam who answers, zipping to Loki's side with a condescending smirk.

'Oh, doll face,' the vampire tugs at a stray lock of raven hair, 'can't you just be the eye-candy?'

'Funny,' Loki murmurs, voice brimming with faux-suprise, 'I thought that was your job.'

Bill tenses as though he expects Loki's neck to be snapped, but Pam's answering smile is all fang.

Loki knows people – women like Pam respect a little daring.

But Eric shoots his second-in-command a warning look before they can continue their banter, and Sookie grabs Bruce's hand, staring toward him with unfocussed eyes. 'Bruce, it's okay. Take a deep breath. Did you steal their money?'

'No, no.' He cries, desperate. 'You gotta believe me. I didn't do it. I swear to...'

' Shhhh.' Sookie sooths. 'Do you know who did?'

'No.'

'He's tellin' the truth.' Loki nods absentmindedly in agreement, stirring her drink with a straw and completely missing Eric's scrutiny of the gesture.

But Longshadow scoffs. 'You trust the skinny human to clear the fat one?'

The Viking ignores him. 'Bring the next one in.'

The terrified accountant cries tears of relief as he scurries out – Loki catches sight of a gleaming wedding band and shoots a light protection spell his way out of pure sympathy.

It is a tedious process after that – there are a fair few humans working at _Fangtasia, _and the majority of them are either fangbangers (who glance at everyone present lustily) or just plain terrified.

Loki, uninterested with the proceedings, had moved to sit beside Sookie around the fourth "interview". She hums a tune unselfconsciously as Pam leads an older, skinny blonde woman in.

'This is the last of our humans.' She announces, and said human leers at the two seated women.

'Hmm. Yummy.'

Eric gives a long-suffering sigh. 'Ginger. This woman has some questions for you. Now, be a good girl and answer them, will you?'

"Ginger" grins dazedly up at the Viking. 'Aye, aye, master.'

Loki rolls her eyes in unknowing unison with Pam.

Sookie reaches out for Ginger's hand, but the older blonde pulls back, scowling unattractively. 'Don't you touch me.'

'Hold her still.' Eric orders, and Pam moves over, pinning Ginger to the chair and the telepath grabs her hand.

'Ginger, someone's been stealin' money from the bar.'

'Really? Huhn.'

Loki has a bad feeling.

'Sook...'

The silly fairy ignores her, though none of the vampires miss her suddenly serious tone. 'She didn't do it... but she knows who did.'

'What? Fuck you!'

'Sook.'

'Who? Who's gonna kill you? Ginger honey, what's his name?'

The room is tense and silent, the two blonde mortals staring at one another.

It's blank,' Sookie breathes in epiphany, 'like her memory's been erased.'

'I don't know anything,' Ginger cries, frantic, 'I swear!'

'She's been glamoured.' Pam notes.

'Sookie!' Loki almost-shouts, hoping she won't voice what they're all thinking.

'It's a vampire.'

_Well, now she's done it._

Longshadow leaps over the bar and lunges at Sookie, growling fiercely, hands curling around her fragile neck. Loki's chair is knocked backwards by the motion, and she rolls into a backwards cartwheel instinctively, bringing herself back to her feet. Green eyes dart about the scene before her, fighting with herself on what to do.

On one hand, intervening would mean exposure – most humans would be screaming like Ginger was – and revealing that she could take down a vampire to the Sheriff of the area was a Very Bad Idea™. But on the other hand, Sookie is... well, she's not a bad person. Naive, nosy and a little thick, maybe, but not _bad_, and she's always been kind to Loki.

Centuries of self-preservation fight against a relatively new human conscious, and Loki is unsure.

But then Bill snaps a barstool over his knee and stabs it through Longshadow's back, and the bartender explodes in a spray of gore worthy of a slasher movie, and Loki's decision is made for her.

_Phew._

Ginger's screams rise a notch before the waitress vomits on the floor. Loki doesn't bother to hide her wince – the first time she'd seen a vampire staked, she'd had a similar reaction.

Eric Northman, suddenly at her side, gives her a side-a-long glance. 'Do not throw up.'

Loki makes her hands shake a little to maintain the illusion of humanity, but glances up at him with strong green eyes. 'I'm not the one covered in vampire Slushie.'

His eyebrows rise in honest surprise before he can cover it, and she suppresses a smug grin.

_It's not every day you surprise a vampire Sheriff._

Loki turns her attention to the part-fae who looks like something from a Halloween party, covered almost completely in splatters of red. 'Sook,' she moves closer, stepping unflinchingly through the thick entrails on the floor, 'you okay?'

The blonde coughs a little, but gives a wide-eyed nod. Loki gently lays a hand on her reddening neck, wincing at the sight.

_If you'd _done_ something, she would be completely fine, _her conscious informs her snootily, and she pushes a tiny healing spell into the bruised skin to appease it.

'We need a bathroom,' she tells the room at large forcefully, 'and a change of clothes, please.'

Pam quirks an eyebrow, glances at Eric for approval, and points wordlessly to a door in the corner of the room.

Loki leads her co-worker across the room by the elbow, and settles against the filthy wall of the ladies toilets as Sookie cleans herself up. Once it becomes clear that the telepath won't have some sort of break-down, Loki twitches her pinkie finger and eavesdrops.

'_Let's cut to the chase, shall we?' _Bill's voice rings in Loki's ears as clearly as if he was beside her, his voice resigned.

'_You killed a vampire, Bill. For a human. What are we gonna do about this?' _Eric questions, casual as if he were discussing the weather.

'_What do you have in mind?'_

'_I'll take the girl.' _Is the immediate reply, and Loki can almost hear Bill's hackles raise.

'_No. You can have anyone. Why do you want her?'_

'_Why do _you_ want her? You're not... in love with her, are you?'_

Bill's silence is telling. '_Sookie must be protected._'

Loki blinks, suprised, and Eric unknowingly mirrors her thoughts. '_That sounds like an edict. But it couldn't be, because I would know about that. Admit it. You love her.'_

Eric makes it sound as if Bill were drinking molten silver for fun.

'_If I hadn't done what I did, would you have let his disloyalty stand?' _The deflections are weak, but Loki understands that vampires need to appear to be without weakness in front of other vampires.

Things are the same amongst Asgardians, although Loki never gave much thought to such posturing. Maybe it was a male thing.

'_Whatever I did to Longshadow, I would not have done in front of witnesses. Especially not vampire witnesses. Not smart, Bill. Not smart at all.' _

'_And what of Ms. Storm? She is something more than an average human, also. You could have her.'_

If Loki had had even a passing affection to Bill Compton, she would be hurt. As it is, she kind of wants to curb-stomp the man.

'_Ms. Storm is not yours to offer,' _Eric reminds him, _'but you are correct. She sensed the danger approaching – either she is naturally perceptive or possibly empathetic. It is... something to consider.'_

Loki twitches a little at the Viking's tone – a cocktail of intrigue and confusion and delight – but can't hold back a lop-sided smirk.

"_Possibly empathetic_" he'd called her; Eric didn't know the half of it.

Her magic snaps back when the tap of heeled shoes crossing the floor moves towards the bathroom, giving a nod of thanks and accepting the shirt Pam holds when the female vampire appears in the doorway.

'Here, Sook,' Loki hands the shirt over – the telepath seems to have snapped out of her shock, and waves her off.

'Oh, thank you, but I'm fine, really.' She turns to Pam. 'I just wanna dry out my hair and be on my way.'

'You're not going anywhere. Eric and your boyfriend aren't nearly done talking just yet.'

Sookie gulps. 'Is Bill in some kind of trouble?'

'That's for the boys to figure out.' Pam deflects carelessly.

Loki nods. 'You should change – you'll probably need to throw out that dress.'

All three of them look her over; she really is soaked in blood. Loki squints, and her hand darts out to scoop a chunk of flesh out of the blonde's cleavage. Sookie gapes at her, and the black-haired woman tosses the chunk into the wastepaper basket with a careless shrug.

'You had vampire in your cleavage.'

'Uh... Thank you.'

Pam's eyes flick between both women, smirking. 'You know, I'm beginning to understand the fuss everyone's making over you two.'

'Fuss?' Loki enquires with faked confusion, but Ginger comes in, perky and glamoured out of her mind, before the vampire can comment.

'Hey there, Pam. Oh, who're your new friends?' They're introduced once more to the skinny women, this time under much better circumstances, and she takes in their blank stares with a manic smile. 'Oh, you don't have to be so scared. They're really very nice here.'

Loki's sardonic smirk is mirrored perfectly by Pam. _Nice _is not how she would describe the owners of _Fangtasia._

They all leave the bathroom to allow Sookie to change – although Pam does so reluctantly – and Ginger scurries off. Loki sighs, coming to sit on a bar-stool.

'It's too bad your bartender's dead,' she murmurs without turning round, 'coz I could use a drink.'

Pam actually _laughs_. 'You are a strange human.'

'Thanks,' she replies dryly, and a cold, pale hand grasps her chin firmly. Loki blinks up at the vampire, allowing her to study her face intently.

'And quite beautiful, too,' Pam observes, running a surprising gentle thumb over Loki's cheekbone and catching her eyes. The glamour taps fruitlessly at her consciousness. '**Kiss me**.'

Loki knows that she should comply purely for the sake of appearing unremarkable, but the pride that comes with being a child of Odin is practically encoded in her DNA – and it refuses to allow her to be manipulated.

So she smirks. 'Will you respect me in the morning?'

Pam's eyes widen in surprise, but Eric and Bill re-enter the room before she can reply.

'Ms. Storm,' The Viking speeds to her side in an attempt to startle her – she jumps minutely for show, 'there's blood on your shoes.'

Loki can't help but look down with a touch of irritation – white Keds (1) are going to be impossible to clean.

'_She can't be glamoured,_' Pam tells her Maker in Swedish, pout audible, '_what do we do with her?'_

'_Leave her – she is clearly familiar with our kind. She won't tell._' He leans closer, switching smoothly back to English and addressing Loki with a raised eyebrow. 'You won't be mentioning tonight's events to any of your human friends, will you?'

'Of course not.' Is her immediate reply – even someone like Jason Stackhouse would know better than to blab Eric Northman's business. 'Is Mr. Compton allowed to leave now?'

It is a little hilarious that self-righteous, stick-in-the-mud Bill needs permission to go places, and the amusement tinges her voice subtly. Eric catches it, even though Bill does not, and the Viking smirks. 'Indeed.'

The youngest vampire in the room zips away to retrieve his girlfriend, and Loki is once more left alone with the owners of _Fangtasia_.

_Bill is a _terrible_ chaperone._

'Tell me of your abilities.' Eric demands, and Loki blinks up at him innocently.

'Abilities?'

'Playing dumb does not suit you.' He reprimands, eyes boring into hers. 'You knew Longshadow would attack before we did.'

Loki gives a noncommittal shrug, studying him unabashedly.

'You have a fighter's reflexes – you've been trained.'

She knew that backwards hand-spring would come back to haunt her.

'And, I hadn't noticed before, but,' he inhales deeply, 'I cannot smell your blood at all.'

She doesn't reply – doesn't even react - even though Loki kind of wants to see his face if she told him that she kept her scent cloaked at all times because it would give her status as "supernatural" away completely.

Despite what the legends say, Loki is not a Jotunn (2) – she doesn't know what a Frost Giants blood might do if one were to drink it. And Asgardian blood _does _have an extraordinary effect on vampires.

But Loki is a shapeshifter, and her current form is human down to the very core, blood included. (3)

The problem lies in the fact that she has been a mage for roughly three-thousand years, and that sort of prolonged exposure to magic changes a person. Loki's blood is literally soaked in her power – to a vampire, even the scent of it would be nigh impossible to resist.

'Maybe you have Anosmia (4).' Loki offers with a completely serious expression; Eric's jaw clenches even as Pam coughs to cover a snicker.

But she is saved from the inquisition when Sookie and Bill emerge and gesture that they want to leave, so Loki gives Eric an enigmatic smirk, ducking nimbly round his large form and trotting to join her companions.

'Nice seeing you.' Loki calls, waving a hand and not looking back. The telepath shoots her an incredulous look, and a grin splits her face as the trio step out into the warm night air.

Despite all worry and caution, she gets the feeling that her acquaintance with Eric Northman is going to be _fun_.

xXx

It's an average night in _Merlotte's_ – meaning it was packed and understaffed – and Loki is rushing around like a headless chicken. Working as a waitress, she thinks, is sometimes more exhausting than a day of negotiations with Alfheim (5).

Asgardians are prideful, and the Fae are haughty – it makes for some very tiresome clashes (6).

She stacks plates into her arms, balancing five full plates precariously. It makes Lafayette laugh.

'Hooka, if you drop that shit, I ain't cookin' no more,' he chides.

'Fuck off,' she shoots straight back, grinning to show she doesn't really mean it. The workers of _Merlotte's _are forever in awe of her insane balancing skills – Loki tells them its "magic", and laughs whenever they rebuke her words.

She moves into the dining area, distributing the plates quickly. The sudden hush of the patrons registers slowly, but she glances up from her order pad with a minute frown.

Eric Northman stares at her from the doorway, eyeing her bare legs with a smirk. 'This place is even more depressing than I thought it'd be.' He comments. 'But I _love _the uniform.'

Loki sighs.

* * *

Author's Note: I feel like this took absolutely ages to edit! Lot's of Eric, and more of him to come.

**Bold text** = Glamouring

(1) I don't own this brand of shoes, but I do love them.

(2) Jotunn, or Frost Giants, are mythological beings that inhabit Jotunheim (one of the Nine Realms). In Norse Mythology - and The Avengers movie - Loki is a Jotunn by birth. My OFC!Loki is not.

(3) This will be explained further in later chapters, but Loki spends the majority of this fic shifted into a human form - though, her magic gives her strength and endurance.

(4) Anosmia is the loss of the sense of smell.

(5) Alfheim is one of the nine realms and home of the Light Elves.

(6) The residents of Alfheim are sometimes said to be fairies. In this fic, Fae and Light Elves are one and the same. It's why Loki knew immediately that Sookie was a fairy.


	5. Chapter Four

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humor/Romance/Drama

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,222

Summary: Loki Odindottir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

* * *

Chapter Four.

Loki stands behind the bar, eyeing Eric intently as she wipes down a glass. 'You know... I never expected to see you _here._'

The Viking glances about the bar scornfully. 'It was not my first choice.'

She gives a rueful head shake at his sulky behaviour, and glances over to watch Pam handing out _Fangtasia _fliers.

'...Bill's in trouble.' Loki notes, not bothering to phase it as a question – because she _knows _the punishment for a vampire killing one of their own, and Eric probably does too.

In the corner of her eye, she sees his massive shoulders shrug. 'The less you know the better.'

'Fair enough.'

So Loki goes about her business, ignoring the towering un-dead Viking sheriff until he finally spits out whatever's on his mind.

But then he's suddenly right in her face –_ fuck, he's gorgeous_ – and fingering a stray black curl absently.

'You look beautiful tonight, Ms. Storm.'

Loki has been hit on countless times in her life, but it's been some time since she actually welcomed a compliment; she's so startled by the revelation that she gifts him with a genuine smile before she can stop herself.

'Thank you.'

He hums, then zips away to join his business partner in the dining area.

'Thursdays are ladies nights, so be sure to bring a date.' Pam tells the room at large in her trademark deadpan, before she leers down at a sweaty red-neck. 'That is, if you can get one.'

The rednecks friend – Royce – laughs meanly. 'She got you there.' He holds out a hand for a flyer, but Eric holds up a palm. Pam freezes.

'Not him. He doesn't get one.'

Royce scowls. 'What gives, bro?'

The Viking is immediately in his face – and not in the sexy way he had been with her. A patron gasps in fright at the sudden movement.

'What'd you do to your arm there… bro?' The silence is heavy – everyone in the bar knows Royce got hurt after the nest of vampires got Molotov cocktailed – and, though she can't see his face, Loki imagines Eric is giving the man his absolute scariest blank stare. Bill's re-entry in the room breaks to breathless tension. 'Bill, I take it your business here is done?'

The dark-haired vampire stiffens defensively. 'I came to talk to Sookie.'

'I'll give you three minutes.' Eric shoots back, unruffled by Bill's defiant tone. 'We have a tribunal to get to.'

Sookie gulps and allows herself to be led outside, but Loki frowns minutely at the implication behind the words. The "magister" for North America is ruthless and has no love for humans – she doubts any encounter with the cruel vampire will end well.

'Oh, before I go, a word of advice:' Eric's voice snaps her out of her contemplation, and Loki glances up to see him addressing the whole bar with an empty smirk. 'We know when a human has wronged us. We can smell it. So do not make the mistake of letting the pretty vampire lady on television make you feel too comfortable. We may not have retaliated… yet… but we know who you are. Have a nice night.'

Once the bar is vampire free, Loki turns in time to catch Lafayette's eye, and they share a grim look.

xXx

She stays the night at Lafayette's again – under the layers of bravado he wears like a shield, he's been badly shaken by the whole confrontation with Eric.

It's nice, Loki reflects, to have someone feel safe in her presence.

So they cuddle up on the sofa, all platonic affection and comfort, and watch cheesy movies until Lafayette falls asleep at four am and she clicks the television off.

It's a rarity for Loki to feel secure enough to sleep beside another person; the occasions when she entertains her oft-neglected libido and actually _sleeps _with someone, she's generally out the door the second her partner closes their eyes. But there were many times over her centuries on Earth when being in close quarters with others while resting was inescapable, so she adapted.

Meditation is a good way to centre herself, to calm her magic, and it passes time quickly. Vampires call it "down time" and often zone out, as they're physically incapable of sleeping whilst the sun is down. Though, in her current human form she couldn't meditate for hours with her eyes open like a vampire would.

So Loki settles in to that oddly aware headspace, and blinks back into reality hours later to find her head cushioned on Lafayette's knee, the man watching _"Gone with the Wind" _and waxing his chest.

'You better not have got wax in my hair, Lala,' she warns, half-serious and feeling refreshed. He laughs.

'Bitch,' he pokes her affectionately with his toe and she clutches her side, moaning dramatically.

'Oh, your cruel, cruel words, Scarlett,' she mimes a dramatic swoon, 'they wound me so!'

Lafayette cackles. 'You iz crazy.'

'Course I am,' she grins up at him, 'but you love it.'

He shakes his head fondly. 'You musta' wrapped your daddy 'round your little finger with that look.'

Loki fights to maintain her grin, but only manages a weak chuckle. 'Not quite,' she tilts her head, considering, 'it works on my brothers though.'

Lafayette can play the drugged up man-whore all he wants – but he is sharp as a tack, and notices the deflection away from the subject of her father straight away.

He doesn't question it though, bless him.

'You have brothers?'

'Yeah, Ty and Th- Tom.' Loki coughs to cover her near slip. 'They're great.'

Lafayette turns back to the TV to give an illusion of disinterest. 'Where they at?'

'Tom lives two states away,' she answers vaguely, smiling a little, 'with his wife and daughter.'

'Apple pie life, huh?'

Loki nods, an old sadness filling her being. She does not begrudge Thor his happiness one bit – but the memory of the love in his eyes when he looks at his family is a gut-wrenching thing.

She'll never have that.

She doesn't realize she'd voiced the thought until her friend shoots her a concerned glance.

'Ah, never mind,' Loki shakes off the ennui with centuries of practice and hops to her feet, murmuring a half-hearted excuse to leave.

To escape the pity in her friends face.

Loki doesn't want to hate her family. But there are some wrongs that are never truly forgiven, and most of them understand. It's why her mother accepts her life on Midgard; why her brothers don't pester her to take on more official duties; why the people of Asgard forgive their princess for being so absent.

She teleports to the cosy living room of her plantation house with barely a thought, and huffs in frustration. Here she is, a supposed _goddess, _bathing in self-pity. She's _Loki_! Princess, all-power mage, Trickster...

Loki stills her agitated pacing, staring unseeingly at the hardwood floors.

Trickster. It has been _far _too long since she exercised her rights to that title. She shimmers out of existence with a Cheshire cat grin and a twinkle in her eye.

Hours pass to find Loki strutting into _Merlotte's _with a shit-eating smile – she's had a... productive day. Arlene, catching sight of her smile as she bustles past, pauses and tilts her head to study her coworker.

'Sweetie, you're sure in a good mood. Did you meet a man?'

Loki laughs. 'No, no. No men. Just had a nice day is all.'

'Well, seems you're the only one,' the red-head gossips eagerly, 'folks have been comin' in all day complainin' 'bout something or other.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Mhhm. Mrs. Fortenberry was ranting about her oven exploding, and Andy Bellefleur – he was looking all shifty when he came in, like somethin' would jump out and scare 'im!'

Loki's eyes sparkle in personal triumph; while the tales of her cruelty are greatly exaggerated, she adores a little trouble-making. The conversation is bought to an abrupt pause when the Parish road crew tumble into the bar, laughing merrily.

'What's so funny?' The black-haired woman enquires, and Hoyt sniggers, momentarily losing the shyness he's displayed around her in the past as he beams.

'Rene's just been havin' some trouble with his belt.'

Arlene frowns, brows furrowing. 'What?'

'His pants won't stop fallin' down,' Jason pipes in giddily, slapping Rene on the shoulder, 'like his pockets were full'a led, or somethin'.'

'Oh dear.'

The fake-Cajun man shrugs. 'My belt must be too big.'

As if on cue, his jeans slip to the floor with a clunk, and the road crew roar in hysterics – Arlene gives a cry of "good Lord!" and fusses over him with red cheeks.

Loki daintily hides her smiling mouth behind her hand.

All in days work.

(It may not be healthy to repress her negative feelings towards her kin with pranks, but it sure is fun.)

xXx

Arlene and Rene's engagement party is in full-swing, and Loki is perched happily on the fringes of the dance-floor, watching the merriment with an idle smile. Despite her better judgement, she has found herself notably _fond _of the entire town – her house is beautiful, the Louisiana swamp is wild and green and practically buzzing with life, and the people, although sometimes small-minded, are kind enough.

Loki feels more at home in Bon Temps than she has in a long time, so she ignores the cynical voice in her head that insists it'll never last and revels in the feeling.

'Hey cher,' Sam smiles warmly as he appears at her side and hands her a cup of Dixie Draft, 'what're you doing sittin' all by your lonesome?'

She grins up at the shifter, accepting the red plastic cup and draining it expertly. 'Waiting for my boss to ask me for a dance, obviously.'

'Ah, my apologies, then,' he holds out a hand, eyes twinkling at the banter, 'may I have this dance, Ms. Storm?'

Loki bounces to her feet, and drags him out onto the dance floor. Dancing is a pastime completely unique to Midgard, and she delights in it. She'd never given it much thought until the "Roaring Twenties", and then boy, did she have fun.

They sway in-sync, moving in comfortable circles. Sam smells of the wild Louisiana woods, and radiates heat as all mortal-shifters do. Even in the balmy Southern night air, Loki revels in the comfort of her boss's warmth.

'You know, you fit right in here,' he comments after a while – she beams at him.

'I love it here,' she replies honestly, 'it's been a while since I've had so many friends.'

Sam shakes his head gently. 'Naww, I don't believe it. You're a nice girl – you musta' had lots of friends in New York.'

Loki's nose crinkles at the memory of the city – the pollution was so thick there you could choke on it, and as much as she appreciates the buzzing energy of big cities, she'd never done well among the people of them. 'Not really.'

'What 'bout family?'

_My, everyone is picking at that scab today._

'My older brother's in New Mexico and my parents live abroad.' _Abroad. _That's a good enough euphemism for "another dimension", she supposes. But Sam frowns at the information, studying her expression of forced neutrality.

'You're alone?'

Loki ignores the pang in her chest at the words, and pats Sam's stubbly cheek. 'I wouldn't say that – I got friends here, don't I?'

His expression softens, and he draws her closer. 'Yeah. You do.'

They lapse into another comfortable silence, still dancing. Then Sam perks, cat catching a glimpse Sookie – dancing with Rene a little way away – at looks at Loki with a guilty grimace.

The black-haired Asgardian huffs. 'Go on and cut in,' she encourages, 'I need a rest anyway.'

The shifter squeezes her into a thankful hug and bounds away, and Loki shakes her head wistfully. Unrequited love; it's the great common factor between all humanoid creatures, she supposes as she navigates the crowd to find a seat, and she has seen it too many times to count.

Most the time it ends in tears; Sam Merlotte – even with his flaws and well hidden two-natured status – certainly deserves a little happiness. But the harsh reality of the situation is that Sookie will likely never be content with a man whose mind she can read. Really, who could blame her?

'Vick! Over here!'

Loki jerks out of her contemplation. Arlene, looking blissfully happy and sitting with Amy, waves her over from a picnic table beside the drinks table, and Loki skips over obligingly.

'Hey, girls,' she greets, winking at the red-head, 'nice party.'

Arlene squeals in pleasure. 'Oh, isn't it just? Sam was just too kind to let us have it here, and the lanterns are so pretty and...'

Loki tunes the women's conversation out, occasionally nodding to give the illusion of paying attention. Arlene can be a little... loud, and Amy is full-on crazy. A peek into the girls head tells her that she and Jason Stackhouse have a vampire locked up in their basement, and the idea that Amy won't be around much longer one way or another fills her with relief.

A cruel as it sounds, Jason will either come to his senses and kick her out, or Eric Northman will deal with it. Loki could probably manipulate the whole situation so that everyone gets out in one piece, but she's pragmatic, and someone who's willing to capture and slowly drain a live vampire doesn't rank too high on her list of "people to protect".

Sookie joins them, flopping down beside Loki with a displeased frown. The magic-user risks a glance towards Sam, who is staring after the blonde with sad puppy-dog eyes on full blast.

Arlene acknowledges the telepath with a smile, but keeps on yapping. 'You know what I love most about Rene? Aside from his fine little Cajun butt. He's good to the kids. He's good to me. All the rest were fixer-uppers. But Rene, he's solid all the way to the foundation. I can count on him. And I've never had that in all my life.'

Amy grins, leaning forward eagerly. 'I know what you mean. I mean, I never knew I could have something like what I have with Jason. I'm not about to let anything destroy that.'

_Scary psycho. _

Sookie pipes up without looking away from the table-top. 'I don't know anyone can trust anybody these days. They're always keeping things from you. You don't even know who people are or what they are.'

Loki raises a bemused eyebrow – apparently _someone _figured out Sam's "nature". For a telepath, there are secrets just piling up around the girl. Silly fairy.

'Well, you know what I love about Jason?' Amy cuts in, breaking the awkward silence. 'Everything is just right there on the surface. You never have to wonder what he's thinking.'

'Yeah, because he ain't thinking.'

Loki snorts, and even Arlene giggles at the truth in Sookie's blunt words. However, the noise makes them all look at her beseechingly, and Loki blanches mentally at the realisation they want her to join in on the girl talk_._

'What about you, Vick? You leave a handsome beau in the city?'

'I haven't had a boyfriend in a while.' She offers mildly – Arlene tsks.

'Why ever not? You're such a pretty little thing.'

'Thanks.' It's been a while since she'd been called _"little"._ 'I haven't met anyone I like, I guess.'

The image of a certain blonde vampire flashes through her mind, impenetrable and glorious and with life-magic the colour of the night sky. _Bad, bad brain,_ she scolds herself, _I must not fantasise about the Viking Sheriff. _

'Oh well, we could set you up,' Amy pipes in, 'I know some really nice single guys.'

'Oh, look, Lafayette's here!' Loki stands abruptly – she does not want to be set by with Crazy Amy's crazy friends. 'I aout'ta go say "hi".'

She zips over to her friend's side without acknowledging the women's goodbye's, and only once she reaches his side does she notice his agitated demeanour. 'What's wrong?'

Lafayette ignores her, storming over to where Jason stands on the outskirts of the party and shoving him to the ground – Loki watches passively, making no move to intervene.

'I kept my mouth shut.' Jason assures weakly, and the facts click into place in her brain. Lafayette sells "V"; Jason is an addict; Jason has a vampire _held captive in his basement._

Oh, shit.

'My supplier. He gone. He fucking missing.' Her friends words confirm her suspicions with awful certainty. 'If other vampires find out I been selling, the same shit is gonna…' His words trail off, and Lafayette runs a hand over his head. 'You understand? The same shit is gonna happen to me.'

The blonde man clenches his jaw. 'You got nothing to worry about.'

The words set Lafayette's ire up a notch. 'Bitch, you think life is just this one fuckin' game that you always win no matter how many dead folk are piling up around you. Maudette. Dawn. Your grandma. And I tell you one fucking thing: I ain't gonna be next, bitch. On my mama, motherfucker. I ain't gonna be next.' He spits at Jason's feet. 'Fucker…'

Lafayette storms away, and Loki gives chase after sending Jason a scathing look. She is going to be _so _pissed if her friends gets into vampire messes because of the village idiot.

'Lala, calm down.'

'Shit, Vick!' He rounds on her. 'Don't be tellin' me to calm down! I am so fucked.'

'_Lafayette!_' Loki's voice rises, and he stills – she almost never yells, but it is widely acknowledged that if she did, you listened. 'When you told me you were selling V, what did I tell you?'

He stares down at her blankly.

'I told you,' she reminds him, hands settling on his broad shoulders and holding his eyes, 'that I would _protect _you. And I will.' Finally, she smiles up at him. 'I've got your back on this.'

Lafayette's lips quirk up into tentative smile. 'Thanks, Vick,' he sighs, 'but I dunno if anyone can protect me if the vamps want me.'

Loki gives him a reassuring hug in lieu of responding – but he had no idea how wrong he is.

xXx

'_Bill's back!'_

The shriek makes Loki wince and pull the phone away from her ear, but she smiles nonetheless at the palpable relief in the telepath's voice. 'That's good, Sook.'

'_I know! He left me message saying he wasn't hurt, but he wouldn't tell me anything about what happened at the trial...'_

'Tribunal.' The magic-user corrects absentmindedly. Sat on the porch swing of the Plantation house, staring out into the dark Louisiana night air, she losses herself in thought; Bill being back meant that the Magister had held back from wrapping him in silver and locking him in a coffin for fifty years, but Loki doubts it was an act of mercy. The bastard had probably devised some cruel and unusual punishment in its place, and for once she doesn't even want to know.

'_Vick, are you listenin'?'_

Loki almost starts, having completely forgotten Sookie in her contemplation, but is quick to soothe her co-worker. 'Of course; have you and Sam made up?'

The telepath made a noise of irritation. '_Sorta. He lied to me about something big, but he's helping me find the person that killed Gran._'

'Oh.' Sookie had told her all about the encounter with the murderer at _Merlotte's_. 'It's probably someone who was at the engagement party.'

'_Sam thinks so too, but I just can't stomach the idea of someone from Bon Temps killin' people. I grew up with most of the town!_'

'You'd be surprised what humans are capable of.' Loki advises sagely, repeating the exact words her Mother told her millennia ago. But the sudden heavy scent of ozone makes every muscle in her body tense and bite out some tense excuses before hanging up the phone and jumping to her feet.

The previously calm night sky shimmers with a sheet of silk blowing in the wind, and with a familiar flash of rainbow colours and a wave of ancient magic, a figure is dropped out of the air and onto Loki's front lawn with a slightly anticlimactic thump. She closes her eyes and exhales, deeply displeased at the invasion of a peaceful moment, before drawing herself up to her full height, posture straightening as the figure clambers to their feet and approaches the porch.

Asgardians are free to travel to Midgard as they pleased, but Odin had declared centuries ago that any who did should declare themselves to one of the Royals on Earth – and, as Loki _lived _there, she was almost always the lucky Princess.

Hence why the Bifröst (1) had spat an Æsir onto her driveway.

He – now that he's closer, the figures gender became clear – halts five feet away, giving an almost too-deep bow. 'Your Highness.'

'Tell me your name, Man of Asgard.' She commands, tone devoid of all "Victoria Storm's" softness. Even after so long, it is all too easy to fall back into the role of her birthright.

'Fandral Ulfrikson, my lady (2).' Fandral straightens, and closer inspection reveals a pleasant, masculine face and brown eyes alight with humour. Loki dismisses the first inspection off the bat but is surprised by the second.

A good-humoured Asgardian was about as rare as an unattractive one.

Shaking off the thought, Loki places her hand is his, allowing him to press a kiss to the back of it, whiskers tickling the skin there. 'Well met, Ulfrikson.' She tugs her hand free after the appropriate time. 'Why are you on Midgard?'

'I come to visit Prince Thor, my lady,' his lips twist into a rather wry smirk, 'I had hoped the Gatekeeper would deliver to him, though our meeting was an unexpected pleasure.'

The court must love Fandral, Loki decides, but keeps perfectly neutral. 'You're a friend to my brother?'

He nods, and a quick skim of his mind confirms it – along with a thorough appreciation of her attire.

(If she'd known she would be expecting visitors she would have changed out of her pyjamas. She'll be having words with Heimdallr (3) when she next sees him.)

'I have longed to meet our esteemed Princess.' Fandral waxes, tone free off sarcasm and chock-full of flirtation. 'The tales throughout Asgard of your beauty do not do you justice, my lady.'

Loki longs to make a comment about rumours on Asgard that would leave him spluttering apologies – it's well known that gossip is one of the reasons she refuses to return to her birthplace – but Fandral's words are not meant to antagonise.

He's a complete cad, but he's not cruel enough to bring up that particular sordid piece of history. So she continues as if he hadn't spoken: 'Thor resides far from here; I will transport you.'

'Many thanks, my lady.' Fandral barely falters at the turn in conversation. Loki can appreciate that kind of adaptability. 'But perhaps I could stay – continue our wonderful conversation?'

It's the Æsir flirting equivalent of asking to see her etchings, but she takes no offense. If anything, the bluntness is refreshing, and Loki has certainly been propositioned by worse men. But...

'I'm afraid _conversation _with eligible nobles would only encourage my Mother's plots for a son-in-law,' she informs him honestly, shrugging as if to say "oh well", 'though I wish you safe travels, Fandral Ulfrikson.'

'Oh.' He slumps a little, seduction thwarted, but bounces back quickly with a lascivious grin. 'Perhaps another time, then.'

The comment cracks Loki's regal demeanour, and her chuckles ring through the night even as she waves a hand and the other Asgardian is swept away in a tidal wave of magic.

She may never fully escape from her home, she thinks with a rueful shake of the head, but at least it brings her occasionally interesting people.

And handsome men.

xXx

Things move quickly after that night.

From a peek into Jason's brain, Amy staked the imprisoned vampire – Eddie – with a plank of wood after an argument. It had made Loki frown, but a night later Amy got strangled by the Bon Temps murderer – she supposes that's what humans these days would call karma.

It wasn't the humane way to see things, but Loki had never claimed to be a paragon of compassion.

In a chain of events that Loki had definitely should have seen coming, Rene – actually Drew Marshall – was the killer, and put the beat down on Sookie and Sam before getting partially decapitated with a shovel.

Poetic justice, she decided, but still feels a passing sadness for Arlene, who never seems to stop crying these days.

If you ignored the new murder – a woman with her heart missing, very messy – things could _almost _be called peaceful in Renard Parish.

But then Lafayette disappears from work mid-shift, and Loki gets a sick feeling in her gut.

She searches his house (nothing), calls his entire phonebook (nothing), and even asks around (_nothing_).

Faced with no other option and a little frantic with worry, Loki wraps herself in a cocoon of swirling gold magic and closes her eyes.

_Take me to Lafayette_, she thinks, and – much like it did Fandral – the hurricane of power whisks her away into the dark.

* * *

Author's Note: Whew! Long chapter! It was originally much smaller, but I added a few bits and pieces to reward my beautiful readers for their valuable time and wonderful reviews. I'm completely in awe of how kind you all are, so thank you. Not much in the way of Eric this chapter, though anyone familiar with the plot of Season 2 will know there is lots of our favourite Viking to come. I'm sorry if the conclusion of this chapter seemed a little rushed; I'm so excited to get started writing S2 that I sort of burned through the S1 plotline.

Also, opinions on Fandral, please?

(1) The Bifröst – or Rainbow Bridge – is, according to mythology, a bridge connecting Midgard and Asgard. (Anyone familiar with the movie _Thor _will know of it, an though this isn't a Thor/True Blood crossover, I have been heavily inspired by Marvel's representation of Norse gods. Oh, and, I don't own _Thor_.)

(2) Fandral is a character based on the _Thor_ franchise. It's my way of tipping my hat to the genius' behind the Marvel'verse. He's a complete flirt – Marvel calls him "Fandral the Dashing", and is one of "The Warrior's Three". And I don't own him either.

(3) Heimdallr is a Norse god known for possessing foreknowledge, keen eyesight and hearing. He is said to stand watch over the Bifröst, and in this fic he's basically the man in charge of sending Æsir to and from Asgard.


	6. Chapter Five

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humor/Romance/Drama/Supernatural

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 3, 719

Summary: Loki Odindottir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

* * *

Chapter Five.

The basement where she appears is filthy, and dark, and stinks of the kind of gore that has been built up over quite some time. Loki is grudgingly impressed – she hasn't seen a proper torture dungeon since the middle ages. Through the darkness, keen eyes skim over the hunched forms of several filthy humans until she sees him.

Lafayette is chained to a pole by a metal collar around his neck, shirtless and evidently scared out of his mind, but unharmed. Loki's shoulders relax a little in relief to see her protection spell had held up (although she hadn't really doubted it would) and promptly sends the other prisoners into unconsciousness with half a thought.

To her friend, she must appear to simply blur into existence beside him, looking as human as she usually did in her _Merlotte's _work uniform, and it makes him flinch so violently that he staggers backwards, then gape up at her.

'_Vick?' _He breathes, sounding stunned, relieved and a little afraid all at once. The combination serves to fill her stomach with guilt. 'What the fuck?'

Ignoring the grim condition of the tile floor, Loki drops to her knees at her friend's side. 'Hey, Lala,' she smiles at him, and the expression is sad, 'I'm _so_ sorry I didn't get here sooner.'

'_H-How're_ you here_?_ What happened to the others?' He gestures vaguely to the other captives, eyes wide with shock.

'That was me – a simple sleeping spell. They'll wake up not even knowing anything happened when I take it off.' She explains unconcernedly. 'Are you okay?'

'_Spell?!_' Lafayette nearly screeches the word, then claps a hand over his mouth, eyes darting fearfully to the stairs. 'Shit.'

'Don't worry, no-one can hear us down here just now,' she hurries to reassure him, and is relieved when some of the fear leaks from his face, 'another spell.'

He fidgets, staring at her like he's never seen her before. 'You a witch or some shit?'

'Not a witch;' she replies immediately, frowning, 'Witches are second rate energy manipulators. I guess the word to use would be "mage", or maybe "sorceress".'

Loki doesn't think explaining that she is an immortal from another dimension that used to be worshipped as a god would be good for her friend's heart – or his sanity. And it's hardly the time to discuss the semantics, anyway.

'Right.' Lafayette breathes out a shaky breath, absorbing the information. Loki watches the emotions play over his face, taking in the doubt, and the nervousness, and for a moment is truly afraid that he'll turn away from her because she is something "other". Then, in true "Lafayette" fashion, he rolls with it – she loves him for it. 'Alright; you a mage. Or whatever. Can you get me out?'

'Ah, well, I _could._' Loki stretches her senses, unsurprised to learn they are beneath _Fangtasia_. 'But Eric – the vamp who owns this place – is Sheriff of the area. He's the boss of Renard Parish.' She adds to his confused look, and opens her mouth to elaborate on the delicacies of vampire politics, but Lafayette beats her to it.

'So, if just up an' disappear, he'll come after both of us, and we'll be in even deeper shit.' he summarizes, and slumping in defeat when she nods. 'Motherfucker.'

'I could get you out anyway,' she offers quickly. She really hates to see the look of defeat on his face. 'I could make him them forget you were ever here – maybe. Vampire minds...' Loki looks away, hating having to admit weakness. '...they're trickier to manipulate than humans, and Eric's older than most. But I could try.'

He stares at her for so long Loki grows concerned and skim-reads his mind; he is comprehending for the first time just how much she is willing to do for him, and it warms some lizard-y part of her brain that loves being appreciated. But he also sees the hesitation in her words, and eventually he shakes his head. 'That's probably not the best idea.'

'I'll find another way, then,' Loki tells him confidently, 'but it'll take a little longer.'

'That's okay,' he assures her, even though he's glancing around the dungeon, searching for a monster in the dark and terrified at the very idea of staying there longer, 'just hope they don't kill me 'fore you can do anything.'

'They won't be able to hurt you at all,' she promises, touching his bare arm and willing the protection spell to become visible. Lafayette makes a choked sound of disbelief, and Loki can't help but smile gently – showing a mortal her magic for the first time is always a little humbling. She allows the veil of green magic to sink back into his skin, and pinches him on his exposed bicep – _hard._ He tenses, bracing himself for pain, and goggles at his unmarked skin when he feels none and he fingers leave no mark.

He stares at her in surprise, then gives a short, incredulous laugh. 'Are you for real?'

'Yeah; but they'll know something's up,' Loki shoots him a small, conspiratorial grin, 'Just flinch and try not to invite any major harm and we'll be fine.'

'Got it.'

'I'll come back to visit as often as I can, okay? And you'll be out in no time,' she stands, 'so don't worry about it.'

Loki doesn't want to leave. Doesn't want to abandon her friend when he is clearly so lonely and cold and scared, but knows that she can't help him from his side, and knows she absolutely must.

But before she can retreat fully, Lafayette grabs her hand. 'Thank you.'

Loki's face softens, seeing his absolute sincerity. 'You don't need to thank me, Lala,' she leans down, pulling him into a warm hug, 'I promised to protect you, didn't I?'

'I guess.' He mumbles against her shoulder, and if, when she pulls back, her sleeve damp and his eyes red, she pretends not to notice. 'Still.'

'I'll be back, I swear.' she declares, and the words are full of old power. Oaths, to the Aesir, are sacred, and even a human recognises the absolute promise in the proclamation – so Lafayette relaxes, and Loki disappears with one last long look at her friend.

She re-appears in the parlour of her home, and rubs the back of her neck. Reclaiming a prisoner from a Viking... it reminds her of her youth.

* * *

To Loki's eternal chagrin, getting Lafayette out of Eric Northman's clutches without force is a little more difficult than anticipated.

A few discreet calls to her contacts in the Authority reveal that, from the standpoint of vampire law, there isn't any legitimate cause for her friend to be let go. Selling vampire blood is a grave offense, and the fact that the vampire supplying Lafayette has disappeared (_died_) does not help.

After two weeks (1) of searching desperately for some way to get her friend released, visiting an increasingly despondent Lafayette, and becoming quite agitated that the people of Bon Temps don't seemed to have even noticed the missing cook, Loki is at the very edge of her patience, and decides it is time for direct confrontation.

It's four am, and _Fangtasia _has just closed for the night when Loki struts across the parking lot to the closed employee entrance and bangs on it. Within seconds Pam swings it open with an unimpressed scowl.

'We're _closed,_ doll.'

'I need to speak to Mr. Northman.'

She quirks an eyebrow at the absolute surety in Loki's voice, but Pam opens the door a touch wider to allow her entry after a moment of deliberation.

'Fine – Eric hasn't eaten yet anyway.'

Loki pretends not to hear the comment, sliding into the darkness of the club. It hasn't changed at all since the last time she visited, though she imagines they have a new bartender.

Pam leads her into a hallway, black bondage style heels clicking against the tile floor in an intimidating drumbeat of clicks, and pauses at a door marked _"Northman"_.

'Victoria Storm is here to see you,' she says in a level tone, and after a moment gestures for Loki to enter, obviously having heard Eric's response, 'good luck getting out.'

Loki shuffles inside, eyes taking in the room in full detail in a single glance. The relatively small, messy room would be like every office space she's ever seen if it weren't for the empty bottles of Tru:Blood in the wastepaper basket, and the beautiful Viking sat behind the desk.

His hair, she notes, is shorter than when she last saw him, trimmed to the top of his neck. It suits him, she thinks, but now is not the time.

'Ms. Storm,' his eyes drag over her form appreciatively before he meets her eyes, 'what a pleasant surprise.'

'Mr. Northman,' Loki gives a stiff nod, reminding herself that she's supposed to be "playing mortal", and forcing her heart to speed a little, 'sorry to show up uninvited.'

He waves the apology off. 'It is no hardship,' he smirks, 'it is always a pleasure. Sit.'

She takes a seat in front of the desk, back straight as a ruler.

'I'm here about Lafayette Reynolds.'

Eric stills completely in the eerie way only vampires can still – un-breathing, unblinking, unmoving. 'What about him?'

Even if Loki were human, she wouldn't buy the innocent act. 'He's missing. And I think you have him.'

'Why would you think so?' He demands, and there is no trace of his previous flirtation is his tone. Loki swallows against her dry throat – her next words are a definite risk.

'Because he has been selling V.'

The Viking is suddenly right in front of her, and the movement is so swift and sudden that her hair blows back a little at the burst of dispersed air. 'I should drain you dry for keeping this knowledge to yourself.'

She ignores his words, stone-faced in the face of such a threat. 'Lafayette was being supplied by a vampire of your Area – he had no idea that selling V was against vampire laws.'

Eric raises a disbelieving eyebrow. 'Indeed?'

She nods. 'His supplier, Eddie, was captured and staked by a woman named Amy Burley some weeks ago, so he can no longer confirm this or be held accountable for selling his blood. Lafayette's crimes _should _have been put the hands of human law enforcement.'

'You suggest I hand a V-dealer over to cops?' He questions with a scoff, and Loki allows herself a smirk.

'You took things into your own hands – Lafayette would surely report you for his kidnapping and imprisonment if he was turned over now.'

'I could glamour him.'

Loki's eyes spark in triumph. 'You'd be surprised how hard people cling to their worst memories.'

'I could kill him.'

'Then _I _would go to the police.'

A large, pale hand whips out to settle around her throat, not applying pressure, just threatening. 'I could kill _you_.'

'Could you?' Loki taunts in a breathy whisper, and they are both still, held at an impasse. She knows that, although he has his theories, Eric Northman has no idea who or what she is, and this gives her the upper hand. Loki is an unknown – he won't kill her if she has the potential to be useful.

And she does.

Eventually, he throws back his head and laughs.

It is a strange notion that, even after four-thousand years, people's actions can still surprise her.

Eric grins down at her, shaking his head almost... _fondly_. His grip on her neck shifts, now more an idle caress than an assault. 'I wonder if your blood is as fiery as your nature,' he muses aloud, and the jump of her pulse is decidedly not faked this time (2).

Loki gets back to business, tearing her thoughts back on track. 'Let Lafayette _go._'

Eric sobers in an instant, opens his mouth, but it's then that Pam chooses to enter the room in a whoosh of air.

'_Compton is here with his human_,' she announces in Swedish, ignoring Loki and her close proximity to Eric, '_she is injured.'_

'_He cannot heal her?_'

Pam shrugs, uncaring. '_He tried.'_

The older vampire inhales, and his pupils dilate. Loki imagines that, even only part-fae, Sookie's blood must smell exquisite, and she has to admire the self-control it must be taking to not zoom away and rip her throat out.

'_Fetch Dr. Ludwing.'_ He glances at Loki, and switches to English. 'You, come with me.'

The black-haired woman frowns, pretending to not understand the situation, but follows him out into the main room of the club.

Sookie is laid on her stomach on a table, writhing in pain and with three savage (and unmistakable) scratches carved into the flesh of her back, and Loki does a double-take of surprise that she quickly plays of as shock at the sight.

But seriously, what the fuck was a _maenad_ doing around here?!

Despite the questions racing through her head, Loki gasps in concern, playing the part of concerned human friend perfectly. Bill is crouched over his girlfriend, frantic, and looks beseechingly to Eric.

'A doctor is on her way,' the Viking assures, and within moments Pam arrives with a short, wrinkled doctor. No-one notices Loki's eyes widening dramatically – she never expected to see a dvergr on Earth.

_This night is just full of unexpected turns of events._

Sookie, who seems to have regained some coherency, squints at the small woman who approaches her side. 'What kind of doctor are you?'

'The healing kind. I'm Doctor Ludwig, what's your…' She touches one of the wounds, and the telepath screeches in agony. '...name?'

'I-I'm Sookie Stackhouse. Am I dying?'

'Yes.' The doctor deadpans.

'No!' Bill cries, stepping closer. 'She cannot die. You will save her.'

Dr Ludwig growls. 'Back off vampire, let me do my job.'

'Forgive him.' Eric cuts in smoothly. 'Bill is abnormally attached to this human.'

But the Viking's words bring the doctors attention to Loki, and she raises an imperious eyebrow. 'Hm. I never expected to see one of _your _kind here.'

'Likewise,' she returns, trying not to wince at the various sharp looks shot her way. Dvergr, otherwise known as dwarfs, are mysterious creatures from Niðavellir – a neighbouring dimension to Asgard. While the Aesir collective tend to look down on dwarves for their "primitive ways", Loki has always been fond of them, and most of them return to regard - it isn't uncommon for her to pay visits to Niðavellir from time-to-time (3). They are exceptionally wise, so Dr Ludwing being able to see Loki for what she really is is no great shock, but subtlety is not their forte.

The dwarf turns back to Sookie with a brisk sigh. 'We don't have a lot of choices, she's been poisoned. You ever heard of Komodo dragons? Their mouths are teeming with bacteria. After one has bitten you, it will track you for hours, days, just waiting for the toxins to slowly eat away at your nervous system till you're good and helpless. Then it will devour you alive. (4)'

The part-fae gulps, eyes wide. 'I was scratched by a dragon?'

'No. But this poison is similar but way more efficient. I think I've seen it before but it's hard to tell without testing, and we don't have that kind of time.' She rounds on the vampires with a scowl. 'Give us some privacy; I need to remove her clothing.'

They oblige, though Bill seems reluctant to leave, and Loki moves to follow them when an aged hand points at her. 'You. Stay. You may be of use.'

She immediately scurries over to the other woman, ignoring Eric's curious stare. Loki may like dwarves, but they are incredibly wilful, and when they tell you to do something? You do it.

While Dr. Ludwing cleans the cuts with a steady hands, she instructs Loki to put the telepath to sleep and introduces herself as a healer from the Western tribe in her native language. The tongue of dwarves was a complicated array of grunts and hums, but it flows from Loki's tongue so smoothly she could have been born into it.

'_I am Loki_,' she introduces quietly, and it makes the older-looking woman pause in her work.

'_It's an honour, Princess.' _The title is odd to hear after so long. Dwarves have no system of monarchy - the very idea is rather foreign to them – but "Princess" is something of a pet name amongst them for the first daughter of Odin. It makes Loki smile.

'_This was the work of a raving one,_' she observes, gesturing to Sookie's bare back. Ludwing hums in interest.

'_You recognise it?'_

The Aesir chuckles. _'It happened to me, once. But I'm immune to poison.'_

The doctor rolls her eyes, pulling a brown glass bottle from her bag and uncorking it. '_The blonde is not so lucky.' _

She promptly pours the potion onto telepaths skin, and Sookie _wails_.

Loki hastens to grab Sookie's hips and hold her still, but the blonde thrashes wildly. Bill re-enters in rush, fangs out and growling, Eric following calmly. 'What are you doing to her?'

'Hold her down!' The younger vampire hesitates, uncertain. 'Or let her die, your choice.'

Sufficed to say, Bill restrains his bucking girlfriend by her shoulders very quickly after that. Loki _does _appreciate the trademark Dvergr bluntness, but she can't help but wince to see her co-worker's agony. It takes quite a feat to cause her harm, and she is no stranger to pain, and allows some magic to seep out from her fingers to numb the pain at least a little – healing has never been Loki's area of expertise, but eventually the cries quiet, Ludwing stops pouring and Sookie sobs in relief. The dwarf clicks her fingers impatiently.

'You may heal her now,' Bill drops-fang, bites into his own wrist and puts it to the telepaths mouth – Loki and Eric, in a rare show of camaraderie, share a grimace at the sound of the couple's sensual whimpers.

After a few seconds, Dr Ludwing studies the flawless, tan skin with a nod of approval and addresses Eric stiffly. 'I'll expect my payment by the end of the week.'

'It's always a pleasure doing business with you, Dr. Ludwig.' He croons with a charming grin.

'Fuck off.' She calls over her shoulder as she bustles out the room. 'If you ever need a job, girl, contact me.'

And that's about as close to a "good job" as Loki has ever gotten from a dwarf.

'She is... charming.' Bill tells his sheriff wryly.

'Well, she's no fan of the fang,' the Viking shrugs, blue eyes fixed on Loki, 'but I am certainly interested to hear what she meant by "your kind", Ms. Storm.'

Uh-oh.

Sookie coughs, thankfully pulling attention away from Loki for the moment. 'I'm healed?' Bill nods, stroking the sweaty strands of pale hair of his girlfriend's forehead lovingly, and the blonde falls almost immediately into unconsciousness.

A highly disgruntled Pam and a new, heavy-set Chinese vampire enter, and dutifully report that they only found an unrecognisable animal scent on the road where Sookie was attacked. Loki supposes that "animal" is a fair description of a maenad but Eric hums in interest.

'How intriguing. Send an alert through the appropriate channels. Find out what the neighbours know.' His employees leave, and he turns to Loki. 'What do you make of it?'

She sighs – it's going to be tricky, dodging Eric's questions.

'Whatever it is,' Loki muses, deliberately vague, 'it's probably trouble.'

Bill pulls himself away from the slightly creepy staring, and gestures to his girlfriend. 'I don't wanna move her, but I won't leave her here.'

'Longshadow kept a coffin in back. He liked to feed before resting, so it might be a bit messy, but you're welcome to it.'

'Very well.' Loki grimaces at Bill's acceptance. Sleeping in a messy coffin? No thank you. 'I'll rest now then, and leave you to your business.'

But the Viking's attention is now wholly focused on Loki, and when Bill zips away, he moves languidly toward her. She considers following him and sharing the bloody coffin. It's the slow prowl of a predator, every muscle moving with complete purpose – Eric is dangerous.

If not to her health, then to her self-control. He's unnervingly gorgeous.

He leans close – too close for comfort – on purpose. 'I wonder if I could tell what you were by a taste of your blood – it must be special, for you to hide it,' Eric smirks, 'I suppose I'll find out for myself, in time.'

Loki tilts her head to the side, amused despite herself at the Viking's persistent ego. 'You won't.'

'Never say "never",' he admonishes, 'in time, you will beg for me to bite you.'

'I doubt it,' she fires back with a condescending smile, 'but feel free to keep dreaming.'

'I will.' Loki can't help but crack a grin at the Viking's confidence, but sobers when he goes back to business. 'You will spend the day here.'

'No. Release Lafayette, and I'll come back tomorrow night.'

His jaw clenches. 'Such blatant disobedience is either very brave or very stupid,' he warns, 'we haven't finished negotiating the human's release yet.'

'Then we'll finish it _now_.'

'It is nearly dawn,' Eric tells her, sounding impatient, 'so either stay here or leave and lose any chance to free your friend.'

One of Loki's hands clenches into a fist. 'One thing you need to learn about me, Mr. Northman, is that I don't respond well to ultimatums.'

He finally drops-fang, fire building behind his eyes even as his tone remains outwardly the same. 'And what you have yet to learn about _me _is that I expect my orders to be followed.'

Loki smirk is sharp, and edged in appreciation. 'How forceful.' She considers him with a sparkling green eyes. 'I'll stay.'

'Good.'

'But I won't like it.'

'I care very little if you don't.'

'And I want to see Lafayette – he must be downstairs, right?'

A reprimanding hand clamps down on her shoulder. 'That is not acceptable.'

'I have many flaws,' she admits, 'but I have _never _given a rat's ass over what's "acceptable".'

Loki escapes the iron grip with ease and saunters away, inwardly smug. The look of surprise on Eric Northman's face will stay with her forever.

* * *

Author's Note: Ah! I'm a horrible, miserable writer for not updating sooner! But I wanted to have a hiatus between season's, and I have been quite busy this year... but it's no excuse! *Cowers in shame* However, I hope you enjoy this chapter despite its lateness, and expect more soon. I am back in action! Lots of action to be had.

(1) Two weeks is quite a long time, and I considered shortening it, but I will be deviating from canon quite a bit in the coming chapters, so I decided to leave it just this once.

(2) Eric may be a little OOC here... but the way I figure it, my OFC!Loki can go toe-to-toe with him, and that must inspire odd reactions in a thousand-year-old vampire.

(3) _Dvergr_ is the Old Norse word for "dwarf" – and as mentioned in this fic, Norse Mythology tells us that they reside in _Niðavellir _(the Dark Fields), one of the Nine Realms. _Svartálfaheimr _is the actual name for the realm, but this translates as "home of the swart elves", and so called "swart elves" are speculated to be synonymous with dwarves, and I ran away with the idea. Dr Ludwing is a great character, and I always supposed she was a little supernatural. (On a side note, I had a lot of fun researching Norse mythology for this fic, in case you couldn't tell.)

(4) New research has shown that Komodo Dragons actually excrete poison that kills their prey – it's a little irrelevant (as True Blood was aired before this was uncovered) but it's super interesting.


	7. Chapter Six

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humor/Romance/Drama/Supernatural

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 4, 766

Summary: Loki Odindóttir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

WARNING: There is quite a bit of gore in this chapter. You have been cautioned.

* * *

Chapter Six.

Slightly smug with the knowledge that Lafayette may well be free this time tomorrow, Loki practically vaults down the stairs to the basement, having picked the lock on the door and securing it after her.

'Lafayett – oh.' She halts mid-step tilting her head eying his blood-spattered appearance, and the new pile of entrails on the floor carefully. 'What happened?'

'Royce decided it'd be smart to try and silver Northman.' Her friend's chuckle is slightly hollow as he shakes his head. 'Stupid fuckin' redneck.'

Well.

'Oh,' Loki meanders closer, making sure to sidestep the mess of meat on the ground – Royce's body is ripped completely to shreds. 'Ouch.'

In a single wave of the hand, the corpse is swept neatly into a corner and Lafayette is cleaned from head to toe. Lafayette spares her a thankful look, but his eyebrows furrow.

'What's happenin'? How come you came down from the club? You know, someone was screaming upstairs, and not in a good way.'

'I had a... chat with Eric,' she declares, ignoring the alarmed look he sends her, 'with any luck, you'll be out by tonight.'

'Woman, you a goddess,' Lafayette tells her, sagging in relief. Loki twitches a little at the choice in compliments, but gives her friend a serene smile.

'I told you I'd get you out.' Is all she says on the matter, and, as has become routine on her visits, conjures the settee from the parlour of her house. The delicate floral pattern of the fabric looks amusingly out of place in _Fangtasia's _basement, but Lafayette – evidently accustomed to its sudden appearance - pounces on it.

Loki joins him with a smile, and they settle in for the night, wrapped around each other like they have so many times before with his head cushioned on her lap and legs stretched like a patient on a therapist's sofa. Lafayette lets out a long, exhausted sigh at the feeling of cushions below him.

'Get a good rest, Lala,' she murmurs, 'we're out tomorrow.'

'Dunno if I can sleep well in here,' is his half-whispered rebuttal. Loki frowns, considering him for a long moment before settling a gentle hand on his forehead.

'_Sleep._' She commands, and the power of the words sink from her palm and into Lafayette's tired mind – his eyes droop almost immediately. Loki settles back to meditate, but it's only half an hour later when his brow furrows in discontent and he begins to whimper.

The Asgardian frowns down at him, watching as he becomes increasingly more agitated in the throes of his nightmare. She'd thought, perhaps foolishly, that she'd spared him from most of the trauma of imprisonment by providing company and food and water, but clearly he was haunted even with her intervention. It's so easy to forget how fragile the mortal psyche can be, but that's really no excuse; the voice in the back of Loki's mind that sounds suspiciously like her mother chides her for her folly, and when Lafayette begins to thrash she slips off her seat to kneel on the floor beside his head, and presses their brows together firmly.

He freezes in place, and she slips down into his subconscious.

Lafayette dreams of dark, dank spaces and heavy chains, the stench of blood and the unmistakable sound of flesh being ripped from the bone. Loki glances down at her own spectral, translucent hands before closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath. Magic that influences the mind is subtle; a heavy hand or force could reduce the recipient to little more than a vegetable, but Loki is no novice in the art. Let it never be said that Loki Odindóttir was unversed in mental warfare.

Power weaves about her, chasing away the shadow in her friend's dream and repairing, changing, shifting, until vivid green eyes shutter open and take in the dramatic change of scenery.

She stands on a beach at sunrise, the light of a fresh day painting the sky in innumerable shades of pink and yellow as the sun peaks out from the horizon. The endless stretch of the ocean merges effortlessly with the snow white sand at her feet, and two great masses of rock jut proudly out of the earth to form a perfect little cove that frames the sight before her like a tiny slice of paradise. Loki smiles softly, and glances to her left to see Lafayette at her side, expression full of wonder.

'Where are we?' He questions, words barely a whisper, and barely heard over the melodic crashing of waves against the shoreline.

'This is Wales, Great Britain,' the Asgardian informs him, attention following the man as he takes a few tentative steps forwards, 'a little beach in West Cardigan. (1)'

'It's a real place?'

'Yeah,' Loki gives a rueful chuckle, 'minus the sheep droppings and tourists.'

'This is a dream, huh?' His words aren't quite a question, but as he meets her eyes and she spots the sadness dawning at the revelation she seriously considers lying, but she shakes her head "no" nonetheless. It's dangerous to allow people to think the images of their subconscious are real – it's so easy to get lost in the perfect world the mind creates.

'Oh,' he can't quite hide his disappointment at this, but he bounces back admirably and a silly little grin spreads across his lips, 'can you show me other places?'

Unable to resist him in the rare moment of boyish enthusiasm, Loki laughs and acquiesces.

They splash like children in the Trevi fountain, stand at the feet of _Christ the Redeemer_ and stare down at _la Cidade Maravilhosa_, and Loki dissolves into giggles watching Lafayette spin in dizzying circles around and empty Times Square. After a little nudging, Loki takes her friend to the North Pole, and Lafayette stares around at the endless expanse of white around him and declares it "boring as shit" (2).

Loki laughs, but agrees, and whisks them elsewhere.

Several stops later, they're standing on the head of the Sphinx in the dead of night and staring up at the endless, unpolluted expanse of stars above them when he implores her quietly to see "home". Loki gently gives some control of their surroundings back to Lafayette, and his thoughts to mould the mirage around them.

When she finds them in Lafayette's bedroom, lights low and thick incense swirling around them like any normal night with just the two of them, she can't help but smile fondly.

_Really_, she thinks, _you show a mortal the beauties of the world and they still just want to be at home_.

It is one of the reasons why Loki adores humanity so fervently.

With Lafayette is dozing securely under the quilts of his own bed, finally content and free of demons Loki pulls herself ever so gently out of the hold of her friend's mind, and comes back to a reality where her knees are a little sore from kneeling on the hard tile floor and Lafayette is snoring away on her little sofa.

She allows herself a moment to be overcome with an intense wave of affection towards her friend, before she twists around, arranges herself as comfortably as possible, and sinks into sleep herself.

xXx

A bang sounds somewhere in the distance, and Loki comes awake as fast as a bullet leaves a gun.

Being an exceptionally light sleeper is both a blessing and a curse. It's a by-product of her upbringing that she's never shaken off, and, while even a hint of danger can snap her into consciousness fully coherent, Loki often finds herself jerking awake in the dead of night when racoons loots through her garbage cans.

Right now, though, someone is yelling upstairs and fiddling with the lock on the door to the basement, so she supposes it's just as well she's awake.

She swipes the sofa away just as the door slams open, and the short drop as the mattress disappears from under him jerks Lafayette awake with an "oomph". A swift cushioning charm is all that keeps his head from cracking against the linoleum, but he nonetheless sends her an unimpressed look for the rude awakening.

'Lafayette?' It's Sookie's voice, and the telepath comes running down the stairs, only to do a double-take when she catches sight of Loki, cuddled up in front of him. 'Vick?! What the fuck?!'

'Sook?' Lafayette's tone is equally as baffled as the blonde's, 'Jesus, what you doin' here?'

Loki has to wince; she'd forgotten to explain Sookie's involvement in the mess of the previous night.

'What am _I _doing here?' The blonde squawks indignantly, glancing about with a grimace. 'Why're you in the basement?'

Idly, Loki wonders why a _telepath _asks so many questions when if she concentrated she could learn everything she needed to know from the thoughts around her. Silly fairy. Out loud, she speaks to take the pressure of a nervous looking Lafayette.

'Lala was selling V, Amy staked his supplier and he got locked up down here. But I'm getting him out.' She shoots the blonde a smile as if to say "no worries", but instead of making the part-fae lay off, it has the opposite effect.

'You _knew?! _All this time, while everyone was worryin' themselves silly, and you knew he was here.' Sookie looks outraged at the notion. 'And you didn't do nothin' about it 'till _now?'_

'Hold up, Sook...' Lafayette tries to intervene – he's ignored.

And the telepath's insinuation that Loki had been doing nothing to help her friend when half of Bon Temps was living happily under the illusion that he was off on a bender is stirring her usually docile temper.

'Do you really think I didn't try _everything _to get him out of here before I came here and confronted Eric Northman about it?' Her expression, Loki is sure, is decidedly unimpressed bordering on lethal. Apparently, Sookie doesn't notice, because her hands clench into fists in agitation.

'Obviously not if he's still here now!'

'You're full of shit,' Loki informs her with finality, and holds up a palm when the blonde gears up to respond, 'I'm not continuing this pointless argument.'

Sookie shuts up, _finally_ catching the dangerous glint of anger in her face, and Loki turns to Lafayette to explain. 'Sookie was attacked last night.'

He immediately starts fussing over the blonde, and they share a hug full of tears and relief. They all settle down a bit after that, and Sookie apologises to Loki, who waves her off with all the patience of a women with two occasionally idiotic older brothers. And when the sun sinks below the horizon and the familiar feel of vampires moving around skitters across Loki's skin the telepath trots upstairs to meet her boyfriend. The Asgardian allows herself a moment to look at Lafayette seriously.

'I know it's asking a lot,' she tells him, 'but please don't let anyone know what I am.' He nods solemnly, but the glint in his eyes tells her he expects answers soon.

But that is an entirely different shit-storm to be pursued another time, and with a kiss to his warm cheek Loki follows Sookie's path, and steps out onto the club floor just as the part-fae marches over to Bill fit to burst with ire.

'You better not have known anything about this Bill Compton, because if you did, I don't think I could ever forgive you.' The vampire blinks down at her slowly, and from were Loki has perched herself on top of the bar she thinks the motion makes him look incredibly dim.

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'She's referring to the human in my basement.' Eric's entry into the conversation makes all eyes snap to him as he appears in the doorway of the club. 'The human that traded sexual services with a vampire in order to sell his blood - a grave offense.'

It is said with such nonchalance, _such carelessness_, that when she thinks back to the memory of her friend's nightmares Loki clenches her jaw.

'The human,' she adds, posture relaxed but eyes flashing, 'whose name is "Lafayette", and whose release we were negotiating last night.'

Eric looks over at her with glowing eyes, noting the tight _Fangtasia _shirt she had changed into before going to see Lafayette with appreciation. 'Ah, Ms. Storm... how was your day in my basement?'

'Peachy,' she fires back, sarcasm practically dripping from her words, 'I've always wondered what purgatory was like, and now believe I've slept there.'

'You think so?' The Viking enquires with mock-earnestness.

'Yes. But the whole "torture-dungeon" thing? Very stereotypical. And medieval. Your age is showing.' Eric rolls his eyes, but Loki quickly puts a business face back on when she catches Sookie's incredulous expression at their banter. 'What will it take for you to release Lafayette?'

'Let's discuss this in my office.' He turns away without another word, pausing only to call back: 'Come along Ms. Stackhouse.'

Sookie and Loki exchange heavy looks. Despite any differences they have, neither of them enjoy being at Eric Northman's beck and call, and the Asgardian marches after the Viking with determination.

'Sookie isn't part of our negotiation,' Loki amends as she stalks into his office and stands determinedly before Eric, 'leave her out of it.'

'It's amusing that you think you can command me, Ms. Storm.' He comments, just as the telepath and her very reluctant boyfriend join them.

'Don't worry, Vick,' Sookie assures, 'if it'll help get Lafayette out, I'll do it.'

Loki resists the growing urge to face-palm, and Eric's smirk is triumphant as he glances between the two women, completely aware that they'd both go to extreme lengths to ensure their friends safety. Strategically, the Viking vampire is holding all the cards, and that's Bad.

The kind of "bad" that deserves Capitalization.

'A Sheriff in Dallas has gone missing.' Eric begins without delay, but Loki's attention sharpens at his words. Sheriff's are, generally, the most powerful vampires in an area, and Area Nine is practically all of Texas.

The strongest vamp from such a large population of vamps... missing?

'How do you know this Sheriff is "missing"? They might be dead. Or on vacation.' In response, Eric shoots her such a dangerous look that both of her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the raw emotion in the look.

'He is _missing._'

_Talk about touchy_, Loki thinks, but leaves the topic alone for the time being – best not to poke this particular sleeping dragon.

'So...' Sookie drawls after a moment, breaking the contemplative silence, 'if we agree to go to Dallas to help look for this vampire... you'll let Lafayette go?'

'No, you nearly died last night.' Bill interjects immediately. 'You are not going to Dallas.'

The telepath rolls her eyes at her boyfriend. 'Bill, I can make up my own mind.'

'I will pay all of your expenses, of course,' Eric jumps in, smoothly halting the impending domestic dispute, 'and yes, I will release your friend.'

'And you'll pay us five-thousand dollars. Each.'

Even Loki is surprised by the Southern Belle's enterprising, and the older vampire quirks a brow.

'Your human is getting cocky, Bill.'

It is the wrong thing to say, clearly, because Bill perks up, and wraps a smug arm around Sookie.

'She will take ten-thousand dollars and I will escort her.'

'I don't think so, no.'

'Ten thousand for both of us,' Loki pipes up, 'Bill comes with us, and your personal guarantee that you'll do your best to keep me from harm.' (3)

Sookie's head snaps in her direction, and even Bill's eyes widen in surprise. But Loki is staring forcefully at Eric, whose expression is intrigued.

'And what makes you think I'll be going to Dallas?'

'Don't be coy,' she scolds, 'you would not be sending us to Texas if you didn't have some personal stake in this, and you wouldn't leave us to handle something personal on our own.'

'Maybe I owe Area 9 a debt.'

Loki scoffs. She gets the feeling that the number of vampires Eric is indebted to is slim-to-none. 'I find that very unlikely.'

'You're sharper than I gave you credit for.' He breathes, with an odd look in his eyes. 'And putting yourself under my direct protection for a no-good V dealer... that kind of loyalty is rare in a breather.'

'Lafayette is my _friend_. And as for being "under your protection" I refuse to exchange blood, and I'm not "yours", but,' Loki glances pointedly at the couple behind her, before adding a little wryly, 'I hardly have an overprotective boyfriend escorting me, do I?'

Honestly, Loki would just like to avoid situations where she'll be forced to use magic to defend herself in front of vampire witnesses.

'If you are unclaimed you will be in great danger,' Eric informs her.

'Ican protect myself well enough,' she insists, 'but your word that we'll avoid situations where I'll become a snack would be reassuring... to an extent.'

'Not very trusting, are you?' The Viking observes with a flirty tilt of his head. 'I'm sure I'll grow on you.'

'Just because you say it doesn't make it _true._'

'Believe what you like.' Eric smirks before addressing the room at large, 'Ten-thousand each, a dubious chaperone and my guarantee of protection – to an extent. We have a deal, then?'

Loki throws a glance to the part-fae waitress, who gives a hesitant nod, and she smirks up at the Viking. 'We have a deal.'

Her words are met with a tidal wave of magic that runs over everyone in the room like thousands of tiny, ticklish fingers. When Eric stops shuddering from the odd sensation, his attention zeroes in on Loki intently.

'What was _that?'_

'Deals between... my "kind" are binding.' Loki's attempt at nonchalance really borders on complete deviousness as she looks up at him. It's not much of a risk – there are many creatures in the Nine Realms with such binds. 'So we'll all be keeping our promises.' (4)

Eric looks at her like he can't decide whether to rip her throat out or ravish her for her daring. And after a long moment where Loki anticipates either assault, the towering blonde gives a grudgingly impressed smile.

'Well played, Ms. Storm.' He straightens. 'You need to leave immediately – I will join you in Dallas as soon as possible.'

'Very well,' Bill dips his head obediently, 'but I will need your credit card number.'

Loki is feeling vaguely victorious as Lafayette is led to them by a severely uncaring Pam, free of his chains for the first time in weeks. Bill and Eric finish up arranging the details of their trip as Sookie glomps the cook and Loki retrieves him a shirt from the merchandise stand.

She shoots the cook a cheeky wink as she hands it over, and he grins.

But when they're about to leave _Fangtasia _and Loki moves to step past him, Eric leans _way _into her personal space, his cold breath brushing against her ear. 'I will learn you're secrets, Ms. Storm.'

He zips away before she can retort (but not without sparing her a heated look), and Loki's lips are pursed as she and Lafayette clamber into her Mustang. Catching the interest of a Viking vampire had not been part of the plan when she moved to Louisiana, and her mixed feelings on the matter are a little unsettling.

'What did Northman say to you back there? And what's this I'm hearin' about Dallas?' Lafayette questions, frowning, and Loki has to restrain herself from slamming her face against the steering wheel.

_Ah, shit._

* * *

Lafayette had thrown a veritable fit when, after reaching the cook's home, Loki explained her deal with Eric. She had gifted him with a serene smile and assured him everything would be fine before changing the sheets in his bed and ushering him into the shower. Loki had stayed the night, mostly out of worry that his nightmares would return, but when the sun rises, bright and hot as always, she presses a kiss to his cheek, scribbles a note, and heads over to _Merlotte's._

'Hey Sam,' Loki peeks her head around his office door and is greeted with a tired smile, 'got a minute?'

'Sure thing, cher,' he swivels in his chair to face her, setting down the tax book he had been going through, 'this about me leavin'?'

'You're leaving?' She asks in genuine surprise, but shakes it off. 'No, no, it's about me and Sookie going to Dallas.'

Sam's shoulders slump, and he suddenly looks so _exhausted_. There are bags under his eyes, and a few extra grey hairs at his temple, and he blows out a long breath.

'Oh. That.' His tone of resigned disapproval clearly indicates his feelings on the matter. 'You know, Sookie I understand, but why are _you _going?'

'Eric Northman seems to think I'm a supe,' Loki explains, ignoring his slight intake of air at the Viking's name. 'and it's the only way he'd agree to let Lafayette go.'

Sam's eyebrows furrow at the mention of his fry-cook – the guilt for not thinking her friend was missing practically steams off of him – but he looks at her in question. 'A supe?'

'Yeah.' She bobs her head. 'Like Sook. And you.'

Sam freezes like a deer in the headlights – an expression which may be a little too accurate when referring to a shifter – and the blood drains from his face so quickly Loki is momentarily worried for his health.

'You... know?'

'I've met the two-naturated before – and the Collie that runs around the parking lot is sometimes too smart to be a Collie.'

'Oh.' Sam nods, gulping back his anxiety but accepting the explanation cautiously. 'You won't tell, then?'

Loki's smile visibly softens at his worried tone. Sam Merlotte is so terrified of his abilities it's a little heartbreaking – no-one should have to hide who they truly are.

'Of course not. Who would I tell?' She moves forward, leaning close to wrap him in an impromptu hug. 'You're a good boss, a good _man_ – what does it matter that you occasionally turn into an animal?'

He's smiling modestly when she pulls away, and rubbing the back of his head in an "aw shucks" way that is simultaneously charming and adorable.

'Well, thank you.'

'I'll miss you when you leave, Sam; but here,' Loki conjures up a small rope bracelet, and removes it from her pocket as if it'd been there all along, tying it around his left wrist, 'a going away present.'

When she pulls away, he touches it hesitantly, studying the coin-sized metal dangling from the braided string. 'What is it?'

'It's supposed to be a charm for protection.' Loki reassures him. 'It'll keep you safe, wherever you end up.'

Because she knows the signs of someone running scared, and Sam's fear is so palpable it's almost a physical thing.

She kisses his stubbly cheek, and leaves office, but not before peeking into her boss's head.

_Maryanne Forrester._

It seems Loki has found the maenad.

Things just never seemed to slow down in Bon Temps.

* * *

_"Anubis Airlines welcomes you to Dallas, the most vampire-friendly destination in the great state of Texas."_

Loki practically _bolts_ out of the plane, face a sickly-shade of green. Out of all humanities innovations, aeroplanes are one of her absolute least favourites, and while she would usually teleport wherever she needed to go, Bill had arranged for her and Sookie to travel together.

It is as dreadful as she'd remembered.

Sookie, a little tipsy from her drinks, giggles at the dark-haired woman as she joins her on the asphalt, and they advance on the waiting limo and its pudgy driver stood by it with a cardboard sign reading "COMPTON". The blonde shoots him her usual bright smile as they draw closer.

'That's us! Sorry we're late.'

The driver fidgets, and Loki narrows her eyes at the way his eyes shoot about the hanger nervously. 'You were supposed to be here before sundown.'

'We got delayed for take-off.'

He gives an unconvincing smile, and a bead of sweat rolls down his head. 'Why don't you go and wait in the limo. I got the A.C. cranked up.'

'Why don't you tell us who you're really working for?' Loki suggest casually, and his eyes widen in shock. Then he lunges, dropping the sign and grabbing Sookie by her upper arms.

'Get in the goddamn limo!'

'Get your hands off me!' The telepath shrieks, pulling away, and Loki takes advantage of the moment to kick him so hard in the thigh so hard he reels back, grunting in pain. Sookie shoots the Asgardian a wide-eyed, thankful look, and in an instant Bill is out of his travel-coffin and pressing the terrified driver against the frame of the car.

'Make a noise and it will be your last.' Bill hisses, and Loki rolls her eyes at the dramatics, but trots over to the other coffin, opening it smoothly.

'Thanks,' the young, red-head vampire breathes, clambering out unsteadily and staring at her with wide-eyes, 'I thought I'd be stuck in there forever!'

'No worries,' Loki smirks – newborns are usually funny, 'I'm Victoria; you must be Jessica.'

'Yeah. Nice ta meet'cha,' she looks over at her maker with a frown, 'what's goin' on?'

'Trouble.' Is all Loki offers on the matter as she links arms with the red-head and pulls her over to the action. Something tells her this trip will be more exciting than advertised.

xXx

Sat in the lounge of Bill & Sookie's opulent hotel room, Loki watches as the dark-haired vampire interrogates the limo driver – Leon.

'Who sent you?'

'Fellowship of the Sun.' The couple share a significant look, and Loki's hackles raise instinctively. The Christian Church has been causing her grief since the 8th century, and they don't exactly like her much either (if the time they'd tried to burn her at the stake was anything to go by). But it seems this trip will mean an inevitable confrontation.

'Are you a member?'

'No, they hired me.'

'Who specifically?'

'I'm not sure.' Leon admits. 'It was over the phone. Money was put in a locker for me at a Greyhound station.'

'And they hired you to do what exactly?'

'Abduct the humans with the Compton party and bring them to the church.'

Well, shit. That meant someone had informed the Fellowship that they were coming, and the only people who knew _that_ were the Lieutenants of Area 9. Sometimes, Loki hates politics.

'Do you know our names?' Sookie asks, looking worried.

'No, ma'am. I didn't even know you were gonna be women. All I know is a vampire's using two human to find a vampire "Godric".'

A dead-weight settles in the pit of Loki's stomach.

'"Godric"?' She chokes out, tone uncharactistically devoid of any amusement. 'The missing vampire's name is "Godric"?'

Leon turns glassy eyes towards her. 'Yes ma'am.'

'Do you know where he is?' The Asgardian demands, jaw clenching when the would-be abductor shakes his head.

'No, ma'am, I do not.'

She tunes out the noise, thoughts spinning dizzily. Loki feels like someone just kneed her in the gut, and her teeth grind together.

From a purely altruistic view, this could be very, very bad. She knows Godric – or at least, she did 1500 years ago – and he knows her as "Loki", as _Aesir._ Despite the changes in her, he will surely recognise her, and (if Eric is his progeny, as Loki had suspected from the moment he had mentioned a missing vampire) Godric will almost certainly explain their acquaintance to Eric. Being known as "special" is dangerous, but an as an Aesir? It could be catastrophic.

But forgetting the practical side of things, the missing vampire is _Godric._ One of the first vampires she'd ever met. She'd fought at his side, let him drink her blood, and lived with him for almost a year. It hadn't been love – they'd both been young, feral, and far too arrogant for such a thing – but it had been...

Loki would describe it as friendship but, as she understood it, _friends _didn't fuck every spare moment.

She hadn't even known he was still alive, though she'd often wondered. But he was in Dallas, and apparently in the company of a church full of zealots dead-set on seeing him burn in the sun.

Loki stands abruptly, ignoring Sookie's worried calls, and leaves the room with clenched fists, whipping a cell phone from her purse.

'Eric. We need to speak when you get to the hotel.'

* * *

Author's Note: This is really one of my favourite chapter's so far. Lots of Eric, loads of magic, and Godric! I've noticed, re-reading my previous chapters, that my personal dislike of the Sookie/Bill ship (and Bill in general) tends to really come through in my writing – sorry Bill fans! Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Nothing is a bigger motivator to me to update sooner. I love you all!

(1) This is actually based on a really real beach in Wales – it's a place called _Mwnt Beach _(pronounced moo-nt) is absolutely gorgeous. And it has dolphins.

(2) In order: The Trevi fountain is in Rome, Italy (it's super famous – those who don't recognise the name will probably recognise a picture); _Christ the Redeemer_ is the name of the infamous statue of Jesus Christ in Brazil, overlooking Rio de Janeiro (otherwise known as "the Marvellous City" - _la Cidade Maravilhosa)_; Times Square is in New York City. The North Pole is rather self-explanatory, but for the record, I don't really think it would be boring. I'd love to go there one day.

(3) While OFC!Loki is doing this to free Lafayette, she's enterprising, and intensely curious about how far she can push Eric. So the money and the protection are really ways to work the situation in her favour while still freeing her friend.

(4) Think of the binding nature of promises to Loki a bit like an "Unbreakable Vow" from Harry Potter, but with less fatal consequences.


	8. Chapter Seven

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humour/Romance/Drama/Supernatural

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 5, 420

Summary: Loki Odindóttir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

* * *

Chapter Seven.

Loki stands by the bar, downing a shot of whiskey expertly, relishing in the burn as she swallows but not wincing. The situation has gone from some trivial investigation to something with meaning in a heart-beat, and it unsteadies her completely.

She was used to being in power, in control. Having all the answers to the questions before they were even asked.

So she had gotten a little complacent, and had been backed into a corner.

Loki hates the feeling.

When she spots a familiar, towering blonde moving through the lounge with Bill, she studies his profile with keen eyes. Eric, the vampire who may well be _Godric's _progeny – thinking on it now, the similarities in their characters are rather prominent. When she'd known him, Godric had possessed the same aloof facade as the Viking, always putting on a show of being unfeeling. But beneath the surface, if you looked hard enough, he'd been an incredibly passionate creature; complex, and opportunistic and unfailingly loyal to those who had earned it.

With a heart-felt sigh, Loki chucks a twenty onto the bar and meanders over to the two vampires, greeting them with a nod and settling daintily into a chair adjacent to them. They glance at her in acknowledgment, but continue on as if she hadn't joined them.

'...I care about others.' Eric states, and Bill leans forward intently.

'You care about Godric.' He amends. 'You have no obligations to Dallas or Texas. This is personal for you. Why?' The Viking is silent for a long moment, then deflects expertly.

'I hope you'll enjoy your blood substitute, which is costing me forty-five dollars.'

'I have no intention of drinking it; I just want you to pay for it.' Was the smug admittance, and it makes Eric roll his eyes.

'You're so mature.'

'Answer the question. Why this allegiance to Godric?'

'He's much beloved by his subjects.' Eric replies carelessly. Despite the serious mood of the conversation, Loki is a little amused by the slippery vagueness of his words.

'Only kings and queens have subjects, Eric, not sheriffs.' The Shreveport Sheriff, clenches his jaw, looking at Bill vehemently.

'Godric could have been king of Texas had he wanted.' He bites out, faith clear as day in his expression. 'He could have been king of any vampire territory anywhere. He is twice as old as I am and very powerful. There are none above him in the new world.'

The unwavering loyalty in his words makes Loki melt a little.

'Well, if he's so powerful, how could they abduct him?'

'Now, that is what worries me. If one such as he can be taken by humans, then none of us is safe.' The Asgardian sits back in her seat abruptly, shocked, because Eric truly believes that Godric was _taken._

It is completely inconceivable that Godric is with the Fellowship out of anything less than full-cooperation - Eric must know this. Even when he and Loki first met and he'd been a mere 500 years old, Godric had been strong – stronger than most elder vampires, even – and he could never be kidnapped by _humans_.

No, Loki's ex-lover went willingly – although possibly under duress – and his possible reasons for going are to be puzzled over. But Eric isn't even considering it, and it's so like a child's hope that their parents will always fight that any doubts swimming through her mind about Godric and Eric's relationship are swept away.

(How sentimental of him to turn a Viking – she'd be oddly touched if she weren't so worried.)

'...The vampires here, they're like cowboys, if they don't get Godric back, they'll want justice.' Eric is explaining, and she realises she's missed a good chunk of their argument. 'They'll start attacking people.'

'Open aggression against humans? That's insane.' Eric smirk is condescending, but honest.

'Well, it's Texas.'

Bill leaves a short while later with a polite half-bow in Loki's direction, and Eric turns ocean-blue eyes to her with a smirk.

'I got your message,' he begins without preamble, fangs dropping with a _shnik_, 'eager to see me?'

'We need to talk...' She considers the crowded, vampire heavy lounge around them before adding: 'In private.'

'Why, Ms. Storm, how untoward.' He chuckles with an absolutely filthy little smirk. Loki rolls her eyes and stands, a motion that he mirrors. 'Allow me to escort you to our room, then.'

She had discovered - upon arrival at Hotel Camilla - that the room booked for her stay was adjoining with Eric's. Sookie had been outraged on her behalf, but Loki had merely shrugged off the part-fae's ire. The Viking was a lot of things, but she highly doubted a rapist was one of them (and the suite was _gorgeous_).

Brushing past his teasingly offered arm, Loki strides with purpose towards the elevators. It is a little aggravating that he keeps stride with her so easily that they enter the cab in unison.

'Tell me,' Eric murmurs, 'have you ever been bitten by a vampire before?' She raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the breathy, seductive tone of his voice but answers without looking at her tall companion.

'Yes.'

'And,' he moves closer, the feel of his gaze on her face an almost physical touch, 'did you enjoy the feeling?'

Loki's lips twitch despite her best mask of nonchalance. Honestly, Eric Northman is incorrigible. 'When it was consensual, yes.'

The metal doors open before them with a quiet _bing, _and Loki moves forward without elaborating – _let him ponder that comment for a while_ – and swipes the key card through the scanner outside Suite 93_. _Their shared lounge is rather minimalist, but still comfortable: The only large furniture is a set of three dark brown leather settees sat around the low glass coffee table and in front of a rather realistic fake fireplace that casts the whole room with a warm glow; the wall directly across from the door is nothing more than a floor-to-ceiling window with a spectacular view of the Dallas skyline (and a lightproof blind, naturally); the wallpaper is a deep red, only interrupted by the odd large-framed photograph. From her earlier inspection, Loki knew that the bedrooms were a little more populated; fitted with similar tall windows; large, downy beds dressed in dark brown Egyptian cotton; tall, deep wardrobes made of solid oak and big enough to fit three adults inside comfortably and en suite bathrooms. The only difference between the almost identical rooms was that the one to the right included a pretty little vanity table – Loki had claimed it as her own, justifying that Eric would hardly have a use for such a thing.

'I wanted to let you know I'll be going out during the day.' Loki begins unceremoniously the moment the door swings shut behind the Viking, perching on the arm of the sofa facing him. After a moment of studying her silently, Eric collapses into a seat opposite her, lounging with his legs spread wide and one arm thrown over the back of the chair.

'And why is that?'

'I'm going to check out the Fellowship.' Absentmindedly, Loki slips out of her high heels, crossing a leg across her lap to massage her slightly sore instep. 'Get a look at what we may be up against if this whole debacle results in direct confrontation.'

'Very forward-thinking,' Eric comments approvingly, 'but these idiots tried to have both you and Ms. Stackhouse kidnapped – it may be dangerous.'

'I doubt it – I'm just going to have a look around. Maybe go to City Hall to get the blueprints of the church.'

'Nonetheless,' he pushes, 'my protection does not extend to daylight hours, and I highly doubt Bill will allow you to take his human into danger.'

'First of all, I don't expect you to look after me during the day. Second of all,' Loki's nose wrinkles in distaste, 'I'm not taking Sookie.'

'Oh?'

'No way.' Placing both feet firmly back on the hardwood floor, she reaches up to free her hair from the pins holding it up in a messy bun, placing them one by one onto the glass table before her. 'Have you met her? The girl can't lie to save her life. Not to mention that the Fellowship is on the lookout for _two_ women.'

That, and Loki plans to spend the day under layers of invisibility charms – a tag-along would surely scupper that scheme. If it were almost any other vampire missing, she mightn't have bothered, but it was Godric. Ergo, Loki has a personal stake in the situation. _The things I do out of loyalty._

'So you say.'

'I'll try not to be late for the meeting at the nest, though it may be unavoidable.'

'That's fine.' When Loki sends him a curious look – she'd been under the impression that it was important – he elaborates. 'Meeting with the lieutenants of the area will likely mean a tedious amount of formalities and small talk. And I'd rather not expose an unclaimed human to more vampires than necessary.'

'And they say chivalry is dead...' she mutters dryly, and he flashes her a hungry look.

'Not chivalry. I'd just rather you weren't spirited away to become a pet before I could taste you.'

'Well, please excuse me while I swoon.' Eric chuckles at the acerbic sarcasm, and, one hand clutching the straps of her shoes, Loki stands. 'I need to rest if I'm going to be out all day.' She dips her head politely in pardon, and moves towards the door to her bedroom...

...but her path is blocked by the towering blonde.

Eric's arms come around her in the macabre parody of a lover's embrace, one hand firmly on the small of her back and the other tangled in her wild black hair in a steely hold as her forces her look up at his flawless, pale face.

'Just when I feel I am beginning to understand you, you surprise me yet again.' Eric informs her quietly, eyes flicking over her features like they might reveal the answer to a great mystery. 'And being unable to smell your blood is just making me more and more curious, Ms. Storm.'

'Well, that's just peachy.' Loki's voice is almost mortifying breathy – a consequence of being pressed so surely against his cold chest – but she meets his eyes fearlessly. She's unsurprised when the tug of glamour nudges against her mental shields.

Eric is old, so the pull is far stronger than most – but it still doesn't stand a chance.

'What are you?'

'It's a secret.' She whispers with a cheeky smirk, only wincing a little when his grip on her hair tightens.

'In a thousand years I've learnt that all secrets can be discovered.' The Viking tells her, thumb tracing tiny circles over her carotid artery. Then his eyes harden, and Eric releases her completely to draw back a little. 'Try not to get into trouble during the day – it'd reflect very poorly one of my employees in the area were killed.' Loki nods in acceptance, but holds their eye contact for a long moment.

'You know,' she addresses him with forced casualness; 'we'll find him. Godric.'

For a moment Loki thinks he'll ignore her words, shrugging them off as meaningless supplication. But his hand shoots out and he catches her free hand, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a feather-light kiss to the knuckles.

'Sleep well, Victoria.'

He's gone with little more than a shuffle of displaced air, and Loki is still for a moment, frowning down at the hand he'd been holding and eventually giving it a shake to try and rid herself of the lingering feel of cool lips pressed to her skin.

Damn. She's been far too long between lovers if a peck on the hand has her so flustered.

* * *

Loki wakes at two pm, seconds before the cheap plastic alarm clock on the nightstand starts trilling. She shuts it off with a slap of her palm, and rolls out of the deliciously plush bed, stretching her arms up above her head with a groan.

Aesir don't sleep like humans do – they rest more out of luxury than necessity – and Loki can go days without sleep even in her temporarily human form because of her magical energy. But she likes sleeping, and it recharges her power quickly; she'll definitely need all the magic she can get for today.

Once Loki had showered, dressed and practically inhaled an order of French toast and a cup of green tea, she takes a deep breath and deposits herself on the roof of the Bank of America Plaza (1). Flinching at the rapid change of environment, and a little staggered by just how high of the ground she is, Loki backs away from the edges of the roof and plops to the ground, legs stretched out in front of her.

_I am not afraid of heights_, she reminds herself stubbornly. But flying is Thor's area of expertise, and a fall from the top of the tallest building in Dallas would probably hurt like a bitch.

Loki takes a deep, calming breath and settles into a trance-like state of mind. It's one of the first thing one learns as a magic-user on Asgard, so it's easy, and Loki closes her eyes as tendrils of invisible magic stretch out from her in every direction.

_Find Godric,_ she commands, bringing the distinct memory of the magic of the vampire's soul to the forefront of her mind, _search the city._

Like a sonic-boom, the power races outwards to fulfil its purpose, eager to please her, and Loki settles in for a long wait. It's risky to use sentient magic for this – uniquely_ Asgardian_ magic – but otherwise she'd have to direct the search herself, and that could take daysin such a large area.

And time is certainly of the essence.

xXx

It's midnight by the time Loki has completed her tasks, gone back to the hotel to clean up and arrived at the nest where the meeting is scheduled.

When she'd located Godric – rather predictably in the heart of The Fellowship of the Sun church – Loki had scoped out the area extensively, utilizing a double-strength invisibility spell and a little sleight of hand to filch a map from a particularly absentminded volunteer. In a stroke of ingenuity, she'd also taken the poor bastard's digital camera, and thanks to Hotel Camilla's in house processing service, now possessed photographic evidence of the Fellowship's layout.

Her strategic mind and propensity to sneak had been just two of the things that had made her an outcast in Asgard for most a large portion of her existence, but she had never been ashamed of it; it was certainly paying off now.

After making a pit-stop in her suite to shower and change, she'd armed herself with the note Eric had set out with the address scrawled on it and headed out. A quick text to Sookie from back of her taxi had confirmed that she hadn't missed anything of great importance, but the Asgardian had offered the driver fifty-dollars to speed up nonetheless. Loki is a little ashamed to admit that she had felt a little drained after a day of non-stop magic – it had been far too long since she'd expended any serious power.

She'd have to pay Thor a training visit, soon.

At present however, Loki strides up the path in front of a detached, modern condo, dressed in charcoal grey slacks and a sleeveless cream chiffon shirt, and studying the house where her old friend lives with a critical eye. Honestly, she would mistake it for any other middle-class home in the Dallas suburbs if it weren't for the shimmering protection wards surrounding the house like a bubble.

The black-haired woman steps through the haze of mist-like protection carelessly, begrudging allowing the foreign magic to engulf her, weighing her intentions and finally dissipating. Loki gives a sniff of disdain, always a bit of a snob in the face of trivial witchcraft, but pushes the front door open to enter.

(And damn, no wonder Godric could just up and disappear if she could waltz into the place uncontested. What a joke.)

Following the raised voices through a large sitting room, Loki turns a corner and is faced with Eric, Bill and Sookie sitting with their backs towards her, transfixed on a Spanish vampire and a man dressed like a cowboy – presumably, they are Area nine's lieutenants, Stan and Isabel.

It's an uninspiring thought, but Loki observes the interaction nonetheless, unnoticed in the doorway.

'... the federal government can bombs us back to the Middle Ages.'

'Things were better then!'

Isabel growls. 'Then go to Romania and live in a cave, you ranchero poser.' Eric leaps to his feet, looking more pissed off than Loki's ever seen him.

'Godric has protected you, made you rich, and you stand here spitting and scratching like infants!'

'Don't any of you care that there's a traitor in your midst?' Bill interjects from his place on the couch beside Sookie before the Viking can rip any heads off – both of the Texan vampires immediately tense.

'No.'

'Impossible.' Sookie nods, the motion making her ponytail bounce charmingly.

'Somebody tried to kidnap me and Vick from the airport.'

'Who the hell is "Vick"?' The cowboy scoffs, and Loki takes that as her cue.

'That's me.' She pipes up, and nearly laughs aloud as everyone in the room jumps in shock. Loki ignores the fact that all the vampires present have moved to stand and dropped fang in surprise, and saunters towards them. 'Hey, Sook, Mr. Compton, Mr. Northman,' she greets each of them with nods, then eyes the unfamiliar vampires with a dubious expression, 'spitting, scratching infants. You guys should really start locking your doors.'

Sookie hides a smile behind her hand demurely, and even Eric's lips twitch as he rises and approaches her.

'Stan, Isabel; this is Victoria Storm. Victoria, these are Godric's lieutenants,' the Viking introduces, then turns to her and lowers his voice so he is addressing her alone, 'you're late.'

'I've been busy. Sorry.' Her completely unapologetic smile belies her words, though, and Eric smirks down at her.

'What is this about a kidnapping?' Isabel asks, bringing Loki out of her staring contest with the Viking, who she allows to lead her to the coach with a hand on the small of her back.

'You were the only ones that knew we were coming,' Bill says, eyes narrowed, 'either one of you told the church, or someone you told about our arrival did.'

'Yep. There's a fox in the chicken coop.' Loki quips, tone light – Stan eyes her disdainfully, before leaning down so his face is inches from her own.

'So this is Northman's pet.' He purrs, gaze raking over her form. It makes Eric's leers look positively innocent, so Loki's smile is fixes in place.

'I'm no-one's "pet".' Stan sneers, and it's an ugly, dangerous expression.

'Oh, everybody's _somebody's _pet, darlin'.'

'Really?' Loki tilts her head with the innocence of a spider sweet-talking a fly. 'So, does that make you Godric's lap dog or...'

She is cut off when the cowboy lunges, but Loki had seen the attack coming from a mile away, and a wall of magic slams the vampire into the ground before he can so much as breathe on her. She peers down from her leisurely perch on the chair, resting the stiletto heel of her shoe on his throat with deceptive gentility, staring down at Stan with electric green eyes.

'Ooh, temper, temper,' she chides, voice laced with dark amusement, 'bad dog.'

Or at least, that's how Loki _wishes _it happens.

In reality, though:

Stan sneers, and it's an ugly, dangerous expression. 'Oh, everybody's _somebody's _pet, darlin'.'

...And then the tall, powerful form of Eric is at her side, pushing the cowboy away with a hand to the chest.

'Victoria is a valuable part of my retinue, and is not to be harmed.'

(Loki tries to remember when he stopped calling her "Ms. Storm".)

Stan grunts in annoyance, but backs off reluctantly. They may be in Area nine, but Eric is a Sheriff in his own right, and at least 500 years older than either lieutenant – in a fight, Stan would stand a snowball's chance in _Múspellsheimr_. (2)

Loki shoots Eric a look that screams "I can take care of myself" but nods in grudging thanks. Knocking the cowboy off of his high horse may have been easy (and therapeutic) but it would have made everyone present aware that Loki had power, and she tries to play such things close to the vest.

Luckily, Bill sets the conversation back on topic. 'We need a plan.'

Stan opens his mouth, likely about to spew another "we should slaughter everyone" speech, but Isabel shoots him an acidic look that makes him close it again, and Eric answers instead.

'I go in and search for Godric before the humans have a chance to stop me.'

'Bad idea,' Loki informs him immediately, 'The Fellowship has a shit-ton of weapons designed specifically for killing vampires, and a bunch of trained zealots gagging to do so.'

The Viking raises a challenging eyebrow. 'You think humans armed with sharpened sticks will stop me?'

'I think nets made from silver will put a damper on your day.' The Asgardian shoots back without blinking at his challenging tone. He doesn't give any outward sign of acknowledging her words as true, but Eric deflates a little. 'Lucky for us, I spent the day sneaking around and-' Loki produces the map and the photographs from her purse with a dramatic flourish, handing them to the Viking triumphantly '-we can take a more covert approach.'

The onlookers stare curiously at the papers in his hands, and Eric's eyes scan over them quickly before his gaze flicks back to Loki and a slow smirk grows on his lips.

'Careful, Victoria; if you keep being so useful I may never let you go back to your little waitressing job.'

The statement rings with undertones of truth,but despite the fact many would find such a prospect dubious, the black-haired woman just grins up at him.

She'd love to see him try.

'Look, as I can see it, the answer is pretty simple, so this is what we're gonna do:' Sookie announces imperiously, making attention snap to the telepath. 'Vick and I will infiltrate the Fellowship of the Sun.'

And Loki slumps where she stands, good mood dropping immediately as the conversation descends into chaos.

_Odin save me from the silly fairy who will get me killed. _(3)

xXx

When it is finally, _finally _agreed that Sookie, Loki and Hugo – Isabel's human, who Loki didn't think much of – would go into the church during the day to attempt to free Godric, they return to the Hotel Camilla to prepare.

To say that Loki doesn't like the plan is putting it far too mildly, and despite trying vehemently to be left out of the infiltration, the choice had been made for her the moment Sookie had opened her mouth.

Faith is an incredibly powerful thing. The Aesir had begun travelling to and from Earth since eons before Loki was even a spark in her mother's eye, but they'd only truly made themselves known a little before 1000AD – and most called themselves "gods". However, these arrogant creatures had been shocked when, soon after the Norse religion had begun, prayers began whispering through their heads. In setting themselves to be worshipped, the nobles of Asgard had unwittingly become deities.

Or, so Thor had told her, decades later. Loki hadn't exactly been on friendly terms with the court at the time, but as with so many things, she had rolled with it and embraced her new role whole-heartedly (even if mortals believed that she would bring about the end of the world and thought she was a man (4)).

Then a decade after the Norse religion was established, Loki had walked into a mosque in East Africa and collapsed, feeling as if she was being disembowelled. The otherworldliness and magic had drained from her slowly, leaving her terrified and exhausted and completely without her power.

None of the Aesir were sure what caused this phenomenon, but a Dvergr scholar had once speculated that the concentration of foreign faith that saturated such places rejected the intrusion of what it classed as other. Yet one thing was for certain: being in houses of worship made Aesir human.

And even though Loki wanted to see Godric home safely, a sharp self-preservation instinct had kept her alive for four millennia, and going into the Fellowship of the Sun went against her gut.

Still, she attempts to keep the disquiet off her face when Eric enters their shared suite, kicks off his shoes and drapes himself on the sofa adjacent to the one Loki is laying on, stretching his long legs out before him. The Asgardian looks up from the book she'd barely been able to concentrate on, sending him a half-hearted smirk.

'How was your meal?'

'Exquisite.' He comments absently, staring into nothing with a familiar glint in his eye. _Uh-oh._ Loki slams the book on lap shut, giving up all pretence of reading and practically jumping to her feet. The vampire's attention snaps to her at the sharp motion.

'You've got a look on your face.' She steps around the coffee table, moving closer. He quirks a brow at her odd behaviour. 'I _know _that look – I practically invented it.'

'And what look is that?' He asks amusedly when she perches at the arm of the chair nearest his feet.

'The one that means you've done something under-handed, morally ambiguous and incredibly devious.' Loki informs him bluntly, and he stills – she takes that to mean she's correct. After a moment, he huffs.

'It is... unsettling to be read so well.' She merely shrugs as if to say "sorry, can't help it", and he leans a little closer. 'Aren't you going to demand explanations? Chastise me?'

'Well, telling you off would be a little hypocritical of me. I've done my fair share of devious things. And, is it really any of my business?'

'Not particularly,' he allows after a moment, 'at the very least, it shouldn't affect your part in tomorrow's task.'

Loki's face drops at the mention of the infiltration, light mood chased away succinctly at the reminder. Eric notices, of course, and clamps a hand on her knee to keep her in place as he shifts so they're faces are only a foot apart.

She is suddenly aware of how _tiny _she is compared to him. Eric is built in supersize, all wide shoulders and towering frame. Loki is a solid 5'7", but the vampire has easily eight inches on her, and even sitting lower at a lower height Eric seems to tower over her. Not to mention that, with her slight, aesthetically fragile build, the hand on her upper leg covers nearly half of her thigh and makes her feel absolutely delicate.

'Is there a problem?' He asks, and Loki snaps out of her trivial thoughts and back into reality; reality where she was being sent into a church. She grimaces almost imperceptibly.

'I have a bad feeling about tomorrow.'

'A bad feeling like it may rain,' he asks, eyes sharpening, 'or a bad feeling like you had before the raid on my bar?'

_Huh. _She hadn't thought he'd noticed her reaction to that. Clearly she'd not the only one who gets underestimated in this relationship.

Loki considers lying: telling it's probably nothing; giving no warning that the trip into the church might go horribly, horribly wrong. Things may play out more cleanly if she doesn't let her presence didn't affect things at all, and allows the pieces to fall into place like her mother would encourage. "Let the fates take play their moves" Frigg (5) would say, with a beatific smile and a gentle hand on her cheek.

But the fates are all bitches, and the choices she makes don't just concern her own well-being. Sookie, and Hugo, and numerous civilian bystanders could very well become casualties in the church tomorrow. _Godric _could be killed.

'The latter.' She confesses, and his eyes darken. 'I don't trust Hugo; Sookie is a liability; Stan is volatile; Bill and Isobel will go out of way to get their humans out safe no matter what; _You_ would slaughter anyone in your path if it meant getting Godric out; I don't think I'll be of much use to anyone; And the Fellowship may be better prepared for us than you think they are.'

Eric is silent as he absorbs her words, takes in the genuinely anxious spark in her eyes. For a moment, Loki fears he will dismiss her concerns as everyday human paranoia, or worse, laugh.

For a breathtaking rare moment, Loki is without pretence, and she will later pin-point this as the moment she began to trust Eric Northman.

'You're right.' He murmurs after a tense pause, and she can see the sharp, cunning mind that kept him alive for a thousand years spinning rapidly to deal with the problem. 'I'll consider it. But know that I will proceed with caution. And Bill, at least, will not a problem.'

'Right. Okay.' Loki's nods in acceptance, looking at her lap a little self-consciously. Moments of true vulnerability were few and far between for the Asgardian, and she isn't too sure how she felt about Eric witnessing one. But at least he hadn't closed down and dismissed her. 'Thank you. But I should get some sleep, prepare for tomorrow.'

Loki pulls away, sending the vampire a small smile and wishing him a good day, shutting the door to her bedroom gently behind her and leaning back against the solid wood, mind racing.

Loki tries to stay positive, reminds herself that even as a human she's still smart and strong and could probably take on three men Eric's size with her fists. But the dark voice in the back of her mind hisses at her, and she's unable to escape that, for the first time in a long time, it's a true possibility that she may meet her end_._

Eventually, she takes a ragged breath and draws her cell-phone from her purse, dialling a number from memory

'Hello, brother,' she greets, smiling at his whooping voice, 'can I speak to Astrid?'

* * *

From her seat in the back of Hugo's jeep, Loki eyes the towering Church with some apprehension as she takes in every detail of the exterior. She had been told by Sookie that the blonde and Isabel's human would be playing the part of an engaged couple, with Loki as their the maid of honour – it was as good a lie as any, she supposes, but is completely dispassionate about the pastel pink "church clothes" she has been forced into for the occasion.

As the car pulls into a parking space, Loki feels the tug of Godric's presence in the back of her mind, and has to restrain herself from running to him. Knowing he is so close yet so unattainable stirs physical ache in her chest, and for a moment, she feels like the barely mature Aesir she had been when they'd first met, stubborn and proud and desperately in need to affection.

Then she notices a blonde Barbie-doll approaching them, and snaps back to the present with a cheesy grin settling on her face.

'Hi, there.' The woman chirps, smile so practised it is almost robotic. 'I just happened to be looking out the window as you were driving up, and I thought I'd come on out and greet you myself. I'm Sarah Newlin. And you all are?

Sookie shakes her offered hand with a trademark "Crazy Sookie" grin. 'Hi. Holly Simpson. I cannot believe I'm meeting you in person. This is my fiancé Rufus Dobson, and my best friend Tallulah Grant.'

'Well, excellence.' Sarah chirps. 'I'm pleased to meet you, Rufus, Tallulah.'

'It's an honour.'

'Oh, the pleasure's ours.' Loki insists, full to the brim with faux-sincerity.

'Now, how about you all follow me in and we'll see if Steve is available. I'm sure he'd love to meet you both.'

The telepath tenses, but her expression remains perky. 'For real? Reverend Newlin himself? Oh, that would be just super.'

Yeah. Super.

They follow Sarah towards the looming entry-way of the church, and Loki slows minutely just before the threshold, taking a bracing breath.

Then she steps forward.

* * *

Author's Note: Longest chapter so far! Woo! Honestly, only because I saw a lot of potential for Eric/OFC!Loki interaction in this chapter and wanted to end it on a bit of a cliff-hanger. However, I like the length, and will probably strive to keep the coming chapters at this length for a while. I've also been considering adding some Eric P.O.V. so please let me know what you think. Reviews, as always, have been fantastic and inspirational, so please keep them coming.

(1) The _Bank of America Plaza_ is the tallest building in Dallas at 280.7 metres (921 ft) high. In layman's terms, that's _holy-shit-oh-my-god-get-me-down _high. And yes, despite what she may tell herself, my OFC!Loki has a bit of a fear of heights. (So do I.)

(2) _Múspellsheimr _is the Old Norse name for Muspelheim; the realm of fire, and one of the Nine Realms. It's really fun changing everyday sayings (like "a snowball's chance in hell") into things that are more relevant Loki to say or think.

(3) Odin is the ruler of _Asgard_, a principle member of the Norse pantheon, and my OFC!Loki's father. There is a lot, and I mean a _lot, _of information surrounding him on the net, but the general consensus is that he's older than most other Norse gods, has one eye and is crazy powerful, so I figure Antony Hopkins' portrayal of him in Marvel's _Thor _(which I don't own)is pretty close. Also, he was, like, spectacularly shitty to Loki (in Norse legend, _Thor, _and this fic).

(4) Legends of Loki most always say that he is, in fact a male (and Tom Hiddleston does little to deter this) and speak of him bringing about _Ragnarök _– the end of the world. The reasons for these legends (and the general bad-press of OFC!Loki in mythology) will be explained later on.

(5) Frigg is Odin's wife, Queen of _Asgard. _Much like Odin, there is a lot of speculation Frigg, though she is said to be able to see the future (yet never reveals it). In the case of _Ever After, _she is the mother of OFC!Loki and her brothers.


	9. Chapter Eight

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humour/Romance/Drama/Supernatural

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 5, 494

Summary: Loki Odindóttir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

WARNING: There is violence and slight non-con in this chapter. Please proceed with caution.

* * *

Chapter Eight.

In most creatures, the memory of pain fades over time.

Humans forget the feel of childbirth, and the pain of a broken bone is not so bad when looking back on it. A vampire will likely forget the sensation of silver burning skin if it happened long ago. For all there is to say about the Æsir, one thing that should be noted is that they almost neverforget the past (though they are known to overlook it).

So the feeling of having her power ripped out of her is every bit as excruciating as Loki remembers, and it's a fight to keep from reacting as she sets her foot onto holy ground. It's like being burned from the inside out, every single part of her reconfiguring to become truly human and the magic sizzling out of her pores like poison being drawn from a wound.

Loki forces herself to keep moving, even as her muscles begin to feel weak, and no-one glances at her when she gives a miniscule grunt of agony as she trails after Sookie and Hugo.

Luckily, while she may have temporarily lost her sorcery, the barriers wrapped around her mind are so deeply ingrained that they cling to her even as a without magical back-up – Loki's supposes it's just as well, because she doesn't want Sookie digging around her head and seeing four-thousand years of memories.

Talk about giving the game away.

Feeling weaker than she has in centuries, Loki attempts to ignore the foreign feeling of being completely without power, and jogs forward to the telepath's side, mindset focusing on her purpose here.

'Y'all go ahead and talk to the reverend,' she insists with a fixed blissful expression, 'I just need to use to powder room. Will you point me in the right direction, Mrs. Newlin?'

'Of course, Tallulah!' The Barbie-doll replies – she is _so squeaky. _'It's right around the corner – and please, call me "Sarah".'

Loki thanks her, throws Sookie a look that screams "be careful" and sets off. The map of the church layout she'd procured yesterday had proved very useful indeed, and this morning she'd attempted to familiarise both herself and Sookie with it. The telepath had speculated that they would likely be keeping Godric in a no-access area, like the storage rooms or the basement, and Loki had agreed. And from her earlier scan of the grounds, she'd surmised that he was underground, so it is clearly the latter.

She's slips through the halls, checking every doorway she comes across for any stairs leading down when she registers the sound of someone breathing at her back.

She tenses, just in time for something hard and heavy to slam into the back of her head. Loki drops like a rock.

_Fuck, _is the last though racing through her mind before her vision blacks out, _I'd forgotten how much being knocked out hurts._

xXx

'-oria, Vick, Vick!'

Someone's... shaking her. And her head hurts. And she can't feel her power.

As soon as these facts sink into focus Loki jolts upright, eyes snapping open and gasping for breath.

'Oh, thank God!' She is promptly engulfed into a warm embrace by her co-worker. 'I was so worried when they dragged you down here!'

'...Sookie?'

'Yeah,' the part-fae pulls back, eyes wide with concern, 'it's me, Vick. You alright?'

Right. She was in The Fellowship of The Sun Church. To look for Godric. And she'd been knocked out.

Son of a bitch.

'Son of a bitch.' She voices, bringing a hand up to touch the back of her sore head and grimacing at lump she feels there. 'Someone's gonna get their ass kicked for this.' She grumbles, but shoots Sookie a reassuring look. 'But I'm okay – where are we? How long was I out?'

'In the basement – Steve said it was his father's tomb, but he knew who we were from the beginning,' the telepath explains with a shudder at the mention of the Reverend, '- you were bought down a little after we were put in here, and it's morning, now.'

_Shit._ She'd been out a whole _day?_

Loki absorbs the news, considering their options with a glance around the wire cage storeroom.

'Did you try calling for Godric during the night? Was there any sign he was down here?'

Sookie gulps and shakes her head "no".

Loki breathes out a heavy sigh – _what the hell was the vampire doing? _– but staggers to her feet to inspect the lock on the wire cage door. 'Then we need to get out.'

'Ah, ah, ah!' She rears back a little when a man she recognizes as Steve Newlin comes down the stairs with a huge brick-like man, smiling manically. 'I wouldn't be doing that if I were you, _Ms. Grant.'_

Loki's smile is a mocking imitation of his cheery disposition. 'Fuck you, you sick Jesus-freak.'

Something in his eyes hardens, but his expression doesn't falter. 'I'm only asking you a courtesy to y'all. My Soldiers of the Sun have orders to apprehend strangers they catch wanderin' around, with force if necessary – if ya'll sneak about it may not end pretty.'

The bald man grunts in agreement.

'Yeah, your "soldiers" can go suck a...' Loki is cut off when a hand is slapped over her mouth, and she shoots Sookie a narrow eyed look, but allows it.

It's probably not the best idea to insult to the psychos anyway.

'Refreshments?' Steve indicates the tray of sandwiches in his hand. 'I hope y'all are enjoying your time here.'

'They're coming for us, you know?' The telepath tells him proudly, and the Reverend gives a smug giggle.

'Yeah, well, that's what I thought. Figured two pretty girls like you'd have a vamp or two running to your rescue.' He sets the tray down beside the edge of the cage. 'Actually, we were kinda hopin' for it, weren't we Gabe?'

'Yes, sir. Bring it on.'

'Yeah, we're ready for them.' Steve says with a smug smile. 'We've been ready for a long time.'

Sookie looks disbelievingly between the two men, mouth gaping open. 'You're gonna get yourself killed. That's not a threat, it's a fact.'

The fanatical Reverend chuckles condescendingly. 'They've got you all twisted up, haven't they, with their…' He grimaces. '...with their glamoring and their empty promises and their evil blood.'

From behind Sookie's hand, Loki scoffs. _Zealots. _'You're the ones who are twisted!' The blonde spits. 'You call yourself Christians? God would be ashamed of you.'

'Oh, I guess we're just gonna have to agree to disagree on that one. Now, things got a little out of hand last night, and I apologize for that.' Steve nods at Loki – because she was _so _going to forgive the bastard for kidnapping her and cracking her head open. 'But I'm not the monster that the vampire-lovin' media makes me out to be.'

Sookie finally releases Loki, and shakes her head, muttering a sarcastic "yeah right". He continues on as if he didn't hear her.

'All I want from you is a couple of answers, and then I'll be more than happy to feed you a nice hot meal and send you on your way.'

Hugo, who until now had been slumped despondently in a corner, leaps to his feet. 'What do you want to know?'

Sookie hisses at him to shut-up, but Loki merely regards him with cool eyes.

'Their names are Victoria Storm and Sookie Stackhouse, and I'm Hugo Ayers. We were sent here by the vampires of Area Nine to find their sheriff.'

Steve's face drops completely, realization dawning in his dark eyes as he turns to the blonde.

'Sookie _Stackhouse_. From Bon Temps?' Sookie blinks at him, confused. 'Jason Stackhouse's… sister. Am I right?' Loki and the telepath share completely baffled looks – what the hell did Jason have to do with it? – and the blonde steps closer to the wire cage.

'You know Jason? He's got nothin' to do with this.' The question remains unanswered, hanging in the still air ominously as Steve and Gabe exchange a dark, dangerous look and retreat without further comment up the stairs. Then:

'Are you mentally deficient?' Loki snaps at Hugo, short-tempered at the whole situation. The man clenches his jaw defensively.

'We sat down here all night waiting for someone to save us. You can go on and play damsels in distress all you want, but one way or another, I'm getting' us out of here.'

'Hugo, do me a favour, please.' Sookie announces, sounding tired and worried as she slumps to the floor. 'Just shut the fuck up.'

They fall silent, stewing in their own displeasures. Noting Hugo's discontented mutterings and Sookie's almost palpable sulk, the black-haired woman retreats to a corner, legs stretched out on the ground and arms crossed over her chest. The throb in her skull is lessening, but it's still persistently unpleasant, so Loki allows herself to sink into meditation to hurry along the long hours of the day.

Isabel's human is right in saying that they are waiting for a vampire rescue, but Loki is far from a damsel, and at night-fall she'll fight tooth and nail to prove it.

_Night-fall._ If all goes well, Loki will see Godric.

A fond smile flickers over her face at the thought, picturing the more clean-cut but still-the-same vampire that she'd caught occasional glimpses of in Hugo's mind.

When they'd been together, he had been a wild, untameable creature, drenched in bloodshed and following his baser urges. But Loki had hardly been much better, and the two of them had met in the modern-day Lake District when they'd been hunting – her for deer, him for anything humanoid. They'd almost ripped one another apart with their bare hands before they'd reached an impasse and actually begun talking.

A friendship with one of the most bloodthirsty vampires on the British Isles was hardly considered "proper" for a Princess of Asgard, but something between them had clicked at that first meeting, and she'd hardly given a damn about her reputation even then. They began meeting regularly, often to hunt together, and when he'd invited her to travel with him Loki had barely considered saying "no". Somehow along the way, they'd become lovers too – although, there wasn't much in the way of romance between them. Godric had been a symbol for everything Loki longed for – free and uncaring for trivialities – and, looking back on it now, it had been a pivotal moment in her estrangement from Asgard.

But she'd been drifting away from the golden halls of her father's court _long _before she was banished, and her brief, burning affair with the Pict (1) vampire was only a pebble at the beginning of an avalanche.

A bang on the wires of the cage jerks her out of her calm state of mind rudely.

'Hey!' Hugo cries, face pale and having shed his suit jacket at some point in the day. 'Hey, I need to use the bathroom. Come on, let me out of here!'

Sookie, chin resting against her knees, shoots him a tired look. 'You have to hold it.'

'I need to get the hell out of here.' He shakes her head, beginning to pace about their prison in agitation.

'Hugo, this is not helping.' The telepath stands, moves towards him. 'Just sit down. Try to relax.' Sookie places a reassuring hand on his, and jerks back as if burned.

'You.' She exclaims, tone shocked. 'You're the traitor.'

'Oh, for fuck's sake,' Loki groans, shoulders slumping, 'I _knew _I didn't like you.'

They ignore the commentary.

'How? W-Why?'

'I used to be just like you.' He explains with a hint of desperation in his voice. 'Thought I was a real emancipated thinker, especially when Isabel took me to bed, and the sex was… amazing. The best I ev… well, you know. It's addictive, isn't it? To be desired by something that powerful.'

_Spineless bottom-feeder, _Loki thinks darkly, watching him with dark eyes. She has no tolerance for traitors, but his words make Sookie flinch away, disgusted.

'I'm no addict.'

'Nah. I guess you wouldn't know how your life changes to suit them.' Hugo laughs bitterly. 'You start missin' work, can't get up in the morning, can't stand to leave them after dark. Before you know it, you're somebody you don't even recognize.'

The blonde shakes her head, unable to compute the logic – Loki can't blame her. 'So you went to the Fellowship because you can't control yourself?'

'I begged her to turn me. It was the only way we could be together as equals. But see, they don't want us to be equals...'

'You've got to be fucking _kidding _me!' Loki interrupts with a groan, and her fellow prisoners turn to her abruptly. 'You mean we're here, _Godric's _here, all because you're a vamp-wannabe?!'

'You-!'

'Shut up!' She barks, and the churning rage in her green eyes is enough to give him pause as she clambers to her feet. 'It's morons like you that make me wish vampires _weren't _real – because Odin forbid you live forever.'

'All they care about is their own kind.' Hugo fires back weakly. 'That's why I joined the Fellowship.'

Sookie interjects before Loki can rip off his arm and _beat him _with it – an option that is becoming more and more appealing. 'So if the Newlins care so much about you, how come you're still in here?' He falters to find a rebuttal, and the telepath sets her jaw. 'Face it, Hugo. You're nothin' but a fangbangin' traitor to them.'

He shakes off her words, completely in denial and delusional, and moves to bang on the cage once more.

'Gabe. Gabe, they know everything!' You can let me out now.' The silence that meets him is telling. 'Hey. Anybody! Come on, let me out!'

'Yep.' Sookie says, voice drenched in sarcasm. 'You're so all-fired important to them, aren't ya?'

Sometimes, Loki can't help but appreciate the Stackhouse attitude.

Both women settle next to one another in one corner of the cage, shooting daggers at Hugo whenever he so much as glances at them. Eventually, Sookie leans a little against her with a tired sigh.

'You okay?' Loki whispers and the telepath's head bobs against her shoulder.

'Headache. It's quiet near you.' Sookie hums in thought. 'Dunno why I never noticed it before, but I can't read your mind.'

'Oh?' She'd wondered when the telepath would notice – there was no magic here to prevent it, after all.

'Nope. Not a peep.' Loki glances down at the blonde, observing her reaction to this news. 'Guess Eric's right after all – you _are _different.'

'You have no idea, Sook.' She confesses wryly, and the Asgardian's lips spread into a grin when the telepath huffs in frustration at the complete non-explanation.

Twenty minutes later, though, Gabe comes storming down the stairs, and every inch of good-humour evaporates from her.

Fist clenched, face red, gritted teeth... everything about the hulking man screams aggression – it makes Loki slide to her feet and tug Sookie up with her.

'Careful.' She murmurs at the telepath's questioning glance, placing herself in front of her protectively.

'Gabe. What happened to your face?' Hugo, who had slumped in relief, is oblivious to the tensed women. 'Listen, they know everything, which never would have happened if you hadn't kept me locked down with a goddamn mind-reader. I hope the reverend knows that I'm gonna need protection now.'

Then Gabe opens the door and slams his fist into the smaller man's jaw with all his strength – Hugo crumbles like soggy paper.

'You want protection, you fangbangin' sack of shit?' He snarls, kicking the floored man in the gut with his steel-toed boots. Behind Loki, Sookie screams in fright. 'How's that for protection, huh? Here's a little more protection for ya.'

The black-haired woman observes the scene with dark eyes, mind racing. Hugo is a traitor, and the vampires of Area 9 would likely do worse than beating him up – she and Sookie could make a run for it out of the gaping door, get some help, find Godric and get out. But human's are fragile, and Gabe is pissed off, so Hugo may just end up bleeding internally and dying on the cold concrete floor of the basement before they can even think of getting backup.

Loki is a pragmatic woman – it wouldn't be the first time she's saved her own neck at the price of someone else's – but her time with 21st century humans has changed her into something more moral, and she knew if Hugo died it would nag at Sookie's conscious for the rest of the telepath's life.

So she swipes up the plastic tray from breakfast and slams it down on the back of Gabe's head with all her strength, and he howls as the acrylic splinters.

Hugo's safe, for now. But Loki has a pissed off meat-head three times her size coming directly towards her.

She punches him mercilessly in the throat and rockets a foot up to hit him straight between the legs. Taken off guard, Gabe hunches over, and Loki takes the opportunity to knee him in the face. His nose makes a satisfying _crack _as it breaks, but he recovers fast, and she barely manages to duck out of the way of a swinging punch that would have broken her jaw.

The little wire cage would be far too small a space for fighting even if Sookie and Hugo weren't around. Loki is fast and agile, but all it takes is a split second miscalculation of the space at her back for Gabe to charge her and pin her to a wall. Loki flails wildly, because Gabe's biggest advantage is physical strength and he has her trapped_._ It is definitely not good, but he mercilessly slams her further into the concrete before she can slip from the hold. Her already injured skull connects with the wall _hard_, and Loki see's stars but snarls – it's the noise of a cornered animal.

'You think you can make an asshole out of me?' Gabe roars, teeth bared and right in her face. 'That's what you think, huh?'

'I'm pretty sure you were born an asshole.' She sneers straight back at him and unflinchingly spits in his face.

"You're mouth will be the death of you"Thor has told her all her life – unfortunately, he may have had a point.

Gabe slams her head back, pinning it steady with a meaty hand clamped around her throat, face purple with rage and blood streaming from his nose as he screams obscenities in her face. Sookie is beating at his back with tiny, useless fists, and Gabe swats her away with a vicious backhand that sends the telepath reeling to the floor.

Loki's hackles rise at the sight, but then Gabe turns his attention back to her and starts tugging roughly at the fabric of her skirt, and she's filled with a new horror as he yanks his belt loose with a cackle. She's been beaten, and stabbed, and burned, and tortured, and poisoned... but Loki had never been raped before, and she damn well plans for it to stay that way, so her struggles renew with fresh urgency.

It's almost heart-breakingly futile, though, and Gabe seems to barely feel all the kicks and punches. If she had her magic this _would not _be happening, and fuck, he's laughing in her face -

('What's wrong? Your own kind not good enough for you?')

- and Loki gets an arm free, ripping his nails mercilessly across his face before he grabs the limb and holds it to the wall, and then his hand is on her bare thigh and _no-one _touches her without permission, and she'd rip him apart if she wasn't temporarily mortal, and Loki keens because _if he touches her she'll burn the church to the ground_...

...and suddenly, his weight disappears off of her, and she stares ahead with utter shock, panting.

Because Gabe is being held off the ground by the throat by a boy who looks all-of seventeen, and the man-child gives him a disdainful once over before snapping his neck with little more than the flick of his wrist and an echoing _snap._

'Godric...' The black-haired woman chokes out, joy and disbelief and utter _relief _warring for dominance in her clouded mind, and the two-millennium old vampire turns to regard the woman he has saved. His mouth falls open in surprise.

'Loki,' he breathes her name like a prayer – a secret – and takes a hesitant step forward, 'it can't be you.'

'_Godric_.' She repeats, not confirming or denying her identity as she stares into tawny eyes she would know anywhere. It's certainly not the reunion she'd imagined.

Then Loki pitches forward, legs giving out on her. Mortals, she muses distantly, have so little tolerance for injury. She's caught in cool arms a seconds before she slams into the ground, and from the safe cradle of Godric's arms, she peers up at him.

'I need...' Loki falters, coughing past the soreness of her throat. 'I need to get out of the Church_.'_

The vampire studies her face and nods, but his eyes shoot upwards sharply at the sounds of fast movement and screams. Somewhere to Loki's left, Sookie perks up at the sounds.

'Bill!'

'No.' Godric denies mildly, closing his eyes. 'I'm here, my childe. Down here.'

And then Eric is at the foot of the stairs, faltering minutely at the sight that greets him. Loki can't blame him for his pause – it must make for a strange sight. Hugo unconscious in the corner, Sookie standing half-leant against a wall, Gabe, neck twisted obscenely and spread eagle, and Loki herself; bruised, half-awake and her skirt bunched at her waist but held securely in Godric's arms.

But even so, once the Viking lays eyes on his maker the rest of the world fades away. Gone is the stoic, merciless vampire Sheriff; what's left is something raw and completely without pretence. Loki is transfixed by the swell of love in Eric's eyes – so blue they put nature to shame – and stares unabashedly as he drops to one knee before the shorter vampire.

'Godric.'

'You were a fool for sending humans after me.' Eric flinches at the reprimand despite Godric's perfectly neutral tone.

'I had no other choice. These savages they… they seek to destroy you.'

'I'm aware of what they've planned.' The admission sends a dark pang through Loki's heart – because if he knew, why did he do nothing? – but the older vampire looks meaningfully at Hugo. 'This one betrayed you.'

Sookie stutters an agreement, but is ignored.

'How long has it been since you've fed?'

'I require very little blood anymore.' Godric dismisses, shifting his hold on Loki slightly – Eric's intense gaze flickers to her at the movement, and he seems to blink out of a daze at the reminder that he and his maker are not alone.

'You're injured.'

She gives a little smile at the redundancy of the statement, but nods – her head spins at the motion. 'Just a little.'

It may be her concussion speaking, but some of the tension in Eric's frame seems to dissipate. Loki doesn't have time to puzzle over it before a wailing alarms starts blaring throughout the Church.

'Save the human.' Godric commands, nodding at Sookie.

The Viking steps forward. 'I'm not leaving your side until you are…'

'I can take care of myself.'

It would be funny, from an outsider's perspective, to see the towering blonde yielding to the comparatively tiny man-child's wishes. She giggles aloud at the thought, and both vampires turn to regard her in eerie unison.

'S-sorry,' she splutters, 'gotta head wound – it's making me loopy.'

Eric smirks, and there's a bit of the familiar, unflappable Viking Loki knows when he replies. 'Clearly, Victoria.'

'Go, childe,' Godric insists, 'I will see to this one.'

Eric holds his maker's eyes for a long moment, before grabbing Sookie by the arm and towing her along behind him.

'We should go_,' _she voices once Eric has ushered Sookie up the staircase, voice regaining strength slowly, 'because this could get messy.'

'Indeed_._' Godric acknowledges, and takes off like a lightning bolt.

* * *

'_Brothers and sisters, we are on lockdown. Women with children, please take them to our classroom buildings. Men, and able-bodied women, security personnel will provide you with stakes and silver..._'

Eric growls lowly as the insipid voice of Steve Newlin rings out from the intercoms of the church, disrupting his keen senses. He'd been loathed to leave his maker behind, and even now every instinct is screaming for him to go to him, protect him and the bruised, beaten woman he'd been cradling. But Godric had told him to get out, and he plans to – it's just going to be harder than expected if every human in the church is on the lookout for him.

Sookie Stackhouse, being pulled behind him, is otherwise preoccupied.

'Eric,' she murmurs, glancing back towards the entryway to the basement nervously, 'will Vick be okay?'

Ah. Victoria Storm.

The woman is an enigma wrapped in a mystery and cased in delicious packaging, and Eric will admit – if only to himself – that he finds it simultaneously irritating and intriguing. From the moment she'd stepped foot in _Fangtasia_ with Compton and his human, the fine hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end. At first, he'd ignored the feeling, seing little more than a pretty face and a toned body, but the moment she'd attempted to warn Sookie of the raid he'd looked harder.

What he'd found was contradictory.

Victoria acted almost completely unafraid around vampires, and though she played it off as having been around them in New York, a few discreet inquiries into the nest in Manhattan had reported that she had never gotten particularly close to anyone un-dead. She moved loudly, steps hard and easy to pick up by vampire ears, but when Longshadow had attacked her friend her movements became all but silent, her stance that of a fighter. Then that same night she'd proved resistant to glamour – which she'd hardly needed, as Victoria showed absolutely no great shock at the violence of seeing a vampire staked or any inclination to run about telling the world what had happened. These things could have just meant she possessed a great deal of courage (or stupidity, depending how you looked at it), a particularly strong will and some self-defence training.

But then she'd marched into his office and demanded her friend back with a dangerous light in her green eyes, and any inclination Eric had to write her off as human had flown out the window.

Clearly, Victoria Storm played mortal very well – when it suited her. And she seemed to sense that the proverbial cat was out of the bag, too, because she'd stopped even pretending to be average the moment her V-dealing friend had proved to be at risk. Suddenly, Vick the waitress evolved into sarcastic, stubborn, sensual Victoria.

And this new, not-human woman who goes toe-to-toe with him unflinchingly, who protects those she sees as "hers" with all the quiet ferocity of a cobra tensed to strike, whose oath bound him in a promise in return for his maker? She was interesting.

Maybe that was why seeing her beaten and bleeding in the basement of the Fellowship of the Sun had unsettled him so greatly.

'Godric will take care of her.' Eric informs the telepath curtly, and Sookie relaxes minutely.

'Right. Good. Godric saved her before – he'll keep her safe.'

The Viking vampire merely grunts in reply, focused solely on navigating his way to an exit. Sookie, however, clearly doesn't notice his concentration.

'It was weird, though. When he came in and looked at Vick, it was almost like...'

Now only around the corner from the main doors of the church, Eric risks a glance back when she trails off, brow furrowed in thought. 'Like what?'

Sookie licks her lips a little nervously at his penetrating gaze, but cranes her neck back to meet his eyes just the same. 'Like he recognised her.'

* * *

The second Godric sets foot outside of the Fellowship Church, Loki gasps in ecstasy.

Unlike going in, which leeched at her power with agonizing slowness, coming back into her own is like an orgasm – sudden and overwhelming and _beautiful_. Her magic rushes back, filling ever bit of her, and it's worried voice tells her _we missed you, we worried, we need you_ in it's strange, non-verbal way. Loki's eyes un-focus and her back arches as she morphs briefly into Asgardian form and just as quickly back to human. Godric's grip tightens at the undoubtedly familiar sight of her true form, but she is so relived to be free of skull fractures she hardly notices.

And as suddenly as it comes, it was gone, and Loki feels _whole _and considerably better know her magic has repaired her fractured skull. In a small patch of woods fifty meters from the church she wiggles out of the vampire's hold and settles to standing, testing her renewed muscles and double-checking that all her old barriers are firmly back in place.

'It really is you, then.' Godric comments and she turns to regard her vampiric saviour.

Loki can't help but smile at her once-lover, but she's unsure on what to do with him – the last time she saw him, their customary greeting had been a half-affectionate kiss that more often than not led to clothes being shed. A lot has changed since then, and Loki isn't sure of the protocol for greeting someone after one-thousand, five-hundred years between vampires.

So she brings up a hand to run the pads of her fingers softly over his cheekbone. Godric almost unconsciously leans into the touch, cool skin leeching at the warmth of her hand.

'It's been a long time, Godric,' she murmurs, smiling fondly, 'you're so different.'

'_You _have changed.' His hand comes up to cover hers absently, and his eyes soften. 'But I haven't aged a day.'

'That's not what I meant,' Loki chides, looking down into his face intently – they used to be exactly the same height, she remembers, 'you're calmer, more peaceful... and sad.'

The vampire stills completely, mask of nonchalance firmly in place. 'Sad?'

She doesn't elaborate, but he seems to understand what she means anyway. The thick cloud of depression hangs off of Godric like a physical weight – it's heart-wrenching to see.

'Why are you here?' He asks, breaking the heavy silence.

'I came to Dallas to pay a debt,' Loki explains, 'and when I discovered it was you that was missing... how could I resist?'

Her old friend studies her face, searching it for any hint of ulterior motive in her actions. Clearly he finds none, because his lips twitch upwards into a little smile that is gone before she can really register it.

'Why are you so... human?' He questions, and Loki can't help but smirk.

'I don't know if you remember, Godric, but we Æsir look rather dramatically different to the trained eye,' she shifts her hand off his face, and the appendage feels cold compared to the rest of her, 'and I _am _a shapeshifter – I go by Victoria Storm these days. Or at least, that's how your childe knows me.'

'Ah, Eric,' he breathes, 'I am surprised you have met.' She rolls her eyes.

'Yes, well, imagine _my _reaction when I learned the Viking pain-in-my-ass was your progeny. Although...' Her eyes sparkle. '...I can't fault your taste.'

'You wouldn't.' Godric shoots back, and Loki laughs outright. Evidently, if nothing else, he remembers her soft spot for tall, blonde and mysterious. He opens his mouth, no doubt to ask more questions, but his head snaps in the direction of the Church before he can. Loki guesses he must have heard something important, because the in less than a second he has scooped her up and deposited her outside the conspicuously un-guarded main doors.

'Stay here.' Is his command, but she snatches his hand before he can dive headfirst into danger.

'Wait.' He blinks back at her, and Loki proffers her wrist. 'Do you need blood?'

Godric's brows furrow as he stares at the pulsing blue veins, then up at her face. 'I am not the same vampire you once knew, Loki,' he informs her in a solemn half-whisper, 'you should not offer such a gift when you no longer know me.'

'I may not know you inside and out as I once did, old friend,' she informs him, tone firm, 'but I still see you clearly. If anything, the ages have made you better; as I would offer then, I offer now.'

Godric's face is unreadable as he replies. 'Better? That's debatable.' And then he is gone into the church.

Loki scowls after him without real heat. Maybe he hasn't changed completely, if he still favours such dramatic exits.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, folks, but I've been writing ahead, churning out chapters for this fic. Loki's stint as a temporary human did not go well, evidently, but this chapter includes my first attempt at Eric's P.O.V. and I would love to hear feedback. Also, Godric! Thanks to all the amazing reviews so far, and please keep them coming!

(1) The internet suggests that Godric was actually born in Gaul – an area encompassing most of Western Europe – but was forced into slavery under the Romans. The latter part is kind of my head canon, but I've always seen him as a being from Northern Britain - specifically a Pict – mainly because he is so tattooed. Julius Caesar recorded the Pict people as tattooed in woad. The first time I saw the actor who plays Godric I immediately thought of the Antoine Fuqua movie _King Arthur_.


	10. Chapter Nine

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humour/Romance/Drama/Supernatural

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 5, 408

Summary: Loki Odindóttir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

WARNING: There is violence and mention of chapter eight's non-con elements in this chapter.

* * *

Chapter Nine.

Eric is a thousand years old, and well-acquainted with the concept of Murphy's Law (1). But it's been a long time, he thinks as he surveys around the chapel, since he's seen it take affect so quickly.

The skin of his arms and upper chest is still smoking from the silver chains the Reverend's lackeys had used to hold him on the alter – he snarls at Newlin now, relishing in the high-pitched cry of fright that it draws from the man. He will heal fast and there will be no scars, but Eric is not a forgiving vampire by nature, and silver...

Well, he's ripped men apart for lesser offences.

But now is not the time for violence. Godric had commanded that no blood be spilt (his maker's reasoning is beyond him, but he will follow orders nonetheless) and the host of Dallas vampires are moments away from a full-blown slaughter that Bill's telepath may very well get killed trying to stop. Unbidden, the memory of Victoria – perched so close he could smell the lavender in her shampoo, eyes dark and distant with apprehension – rises to the surface of his mind.

"_I don't trust Hugo_", she'd said. Eric thinks of the blood-bag still passed out in the basement and remembers Godric naming him a traitor.

"_The Fellowship may be better prepared for us than you think they are_"; he glances at the almost completely healed burns and thinks she may have been right.

Eric looks from Ms. Stackhouse's struggling form in Bill's arms to Stan, the ringleader of the little coup and again the woman's words ring true: if he gets out of this situation without being staked by the Authority, he'll have to discover if premonition is one of her seemingly innumerable talents.

'Enough!' He whips around lightening fast, and some the weight on his shoulders dissipates at the sight of his maker standing on the raised ledge above the organ, unharmed. 'You came for me I assume, Underling.'

Stan clicks away his fangs to murmur a sheepish "yes sheriff".

'These people have not harmed me. You see? We can coexist.' Eric's inner-vampire rages at the softness of the words, but centuries of faith urge him to listen to his maker's teachings. Godric speeds to his side, staring down at the Reverend that captured him without hate. 'Mr. Newlin, I do not wish to create bloodshed when none is called for. Help me set an example. If we leave you in peace, will you do the same?'

'I will not negotiate with subhumans!' Steve snarls – the dawning hope on Godric's face is wiped out immediately. 'Kill me. Do it. Jesus will protect me.'

'I am actually older than your Jesus. I wish I could have known him, but I missed it.' There are several gasps from the gathered humans – Eric himself barely refrains from smirking at Steve's gobsmacked expression – and Godric turns to the members of the Fellowship of the Sun, obviously changing his approach. 'Good people, who of you is willing to die for this man's madness?'

The silence is answer enough. Godric nods, satisfied, and instructs the vampires to stand down and the humans to leave. Everyone hurries to obey, and Eric looks on – even after a thousand years, his maker's ability to command still awes him.

'Please,' Steve whimpers from where he lays on the floor, 'don't leave me.'

'I daresay my faith in humankind is stronger than yours.' Is all Godric offers the Reverend before he turns fathomless dark eyes on Eric. 'Come.'

The Viking follows obediently, but a thought strikes that almost makes him pause mid-step: 'Where's Victoria?'

'Do not worry,' the shorter vampire sends him an amused side-along look, 'she is unharmed.'

This time, Eric _does _halt. Then he hurries to catch up to his maker, feeling self-conscious of their bond for the first time in centuries. Because it must be faulty.

Because he is not _worried._

* * *

Despite the niggling feeling in her gut that urges her to go back into the church at her own peril, Loki sits on stairs leading up to the door; she trusts Godric is fully capable of resolving whatever conflict is going on between the shit-load of Dallas vamps that have arrived and the humans inside and she takes the moment of respite to clean herself up a little.

Loki's head wound had healed almost instantly in the brief moment she jumped into her true form, but she is still a hot mess with a ripped skirt and dirt on her shoes. She's just pulling her hair out of its ponytail when dozens of humans come rushing out of the church, looking frightened yet unharmed.

A peek into a few minds tells her what had happened, that Godric had saved them all with a few well placed words. _'Like an angel'_ – the description comes from a wide eyed teenage girl, and it makes Loki smile. She may have to relay the thought to him later. But a stray image from the mind of a tall, older man sets a cold stone in her gut: a tall, _familiar _blonde man, staggering under silver, offering himself up like a martyr.

The panic that fills her in that moment – _I never thought, never even considered he'd be in danger _– is squashed mercilessly when she spots familiar head of blonde hair through the crowd, and she jumps to her feet and weaves over in her direction.

'You okay, Sookie?'

The telepath's eyes whip to her, and Loki finds herself with an armful of fairy for the second time in as many hours. 'Vick! Oh my stars, I was so worried about you!'

Loki laughs fondly, smiling when they pulled apart. 'I can tell.'

But Sookie is studying her intently. 'You look better – did Godric give you his blood?' The comment makes some of the vampires filing out of the Church pause and look over intently but Loki ignores them expertly.

'No, no, nothing like that.' She turns to the dark-haired vampire hovering at his girlfriend's shoulder. 'Good to see you, Mr. Compton.'

'Ms. Storm,' Bill nods his head politely, 'I am glad to see you unharmed.'

It is a blatant lie. Bill Compton doesn't give a damn about most humans as long as his part-fae girlfriend remains unharmed and they both know it, but Loki smiles politely nonetheless. If she learned anything from her time in court (both in Asgard and on Earth) it was that it is sometimes better to smile in the face of blatant lip-service.

'Where's Eric?' Loki questions as casually as possible. Bill's lips thin severely, expression locking down in displeasure at the mention of the Viking. He grabs Sookie's hand and moves to drag her away without a word, which the telepath allows – but not before she points to the doors and shoots Loki a knowing look.

Godric and Eric are walking close, whispering intently in Swedish and appear completely absorbed in one another. Loki hesitates to interrupt maker and childe (how long has it been since they've seen each other, she wonders) but can't keep herself from approaching.

'I'm glad to see you both safe.' She announces, and their heads snap towards her before they both zoom to her side.

'You look better.' Eric comments, voice a little rushed. It makes Loki eye him curiously, but she smiles up at him nonetheless.

'I feel better – fresh air after a day trapped in a cellar will do that,' she places a soft hand on the drying blood on his arm, 'are _you _alright?'

'Of course.' He leans closer, and his eyes twinkle with a familiar leer. 'Though, you could kiss it better.'

The Asgardian can't help but grin and roll her eyes. 'Maybe later, Eric.'

'I'll hold you to that.' Eric holds her eyes a moment longer, before coming back to himself and turning to his maker. 'Godric, this is Victoria Storm; Victoria, this is Godric, the sheriff of Area 9.'

Loki's eyes sparkle as she nods at the older vampire, pleased to see him still. 'Nice to see you again, Sheriff.'

'Likewise.' The double meaning in her words made Godric's lips twitch, but he remains otherwise stoic as he gazes upwards pensively. 'We shall go to my nest, now.'

'Of course,' Loki bobs her head, 'are there cars waiting?'

The two vampires exchanged a mischievous look, and before she could so much as blink Eric's arms wrap around her and she is launched into the night sky.

_Son of a bitch._

xXx

The nest is packed with vampires and humans alike when Loki descends down the stairs, clean and wearing a borrowed dress. It's clear that Eric had been correct in his assessment that Godric is very much beloved – probably half of the area is present to celebrate his return.

Loki isn't a shy creature, but the leering stares of various men and women alike as they ogle her – admittedly, very tight – attire is enough to make her run a hand through her loose hair somewhat anxiously.

Maybe Eric had been on to something about the dangers of being an "unclaimed human".

(Maybe she is more shaken than she'd care to admit after her close encounter with Gabe.)

Spotting a bar in the corner – and deciding that if she ever _needed _a drink it was now – Loki shuffles over determinedly. She pointedly avoids prolonged eye-contact with anyone, not in the mood for small talk, but her path is suddenly and unexpectedly blocked.

She looks up at Stan – still ridiculously dressed – and resists the urge to snarl at his proximity. She's had _quite _enough of overbearing men for one evening, but even still, manages a polite nod.

'Lieutenant,' Loki's tone is carefully neutral, 'can I help you?'

Stan's grin sets all her nerves on edge. 'Oh, darlin', I can think of a few ways you could_ help_ me...' One meaty hand rises to touch the bare skin of her shoulder, and Loki snaps.

Casting a charm to draw any attention away from the pair of them, Loki wills her magic to whip around the vampire, forcing his arm back to his side and freezing him in place.

Stan's pupils dilate in shock and confusion, and something deadly settles over Loki's face as she steps closer, mouths only inches apart and eyes almost directly level with his.

'I am unclaimed by any vampire,' Loki informs him in a dangerous hiss, 'and you seem to take this to mean you are free to touch me as you please.'

Stan makes a noise halfway between a growl and a whimper as her green eyes glow with power.

'But I will tell you now, _Stan_, that you are most assuredly not.' For the briefest moment, she allows her magic to become visible to only him; Stan's eyes dart wildly about, seeing the writhing mass of power that literally steams off her. 'You don't want to piss me off by crossing our paths again.'

Fear is pouring from the vampire now, and after a long moment, Loki draws back, rips the memory of the encounter from Stan's mind mercilessly, and releases the spell holding him in place. The Texan vampire blinks as if coming out of a trance, then settles his attention back on her – and gives a visible shudder.

'Can I help you, lieutenant?' She queries with a coy tilt of her head, and is cruelly satisfied when he merely grunts and zips away.

Because while Stan Davies may not remember his confrontation with "Victoria Storm", he will always, _always _fear Loki (2).

It's probably the wisest thing he will ever do.

She reaches the bar without further incident, and sips from a flute of champagne as she glances about for a friendly face. But the ground feels more solid at her feet, and she allows a smirk to cross her lips. Loki is back in control, secure in the knowledge that she has more power than any other present, and suddenly the room is not intimidating in the slightest.

Loki eventually settles against a wall to observe the room at large, and catches Godric's eye from where he sits, welcoming the area vampires, and there is a question in his eyes. He'd always been unusually resistant to her magic – he probably noticed her confrontation with Stan, she realises – and Loki gifts him with a cheeky wink.

Godric's eyebrows rise, and the ancient vampire shakes his head as if to say "honestly, how immature". But Loki catches the tiny smile hitching at the corner of his mouth.

_Ha_. Godric had always been amused by the sight of her terrifying overly forward men.

Loki surveys the room with sharp eyes, content for the moment to stand back and observe. Her old friend doesn't summon her, but she catches him looking her way more than once. Idly, Loki wonders if being in such close proximity to her is just as comforting as it is for her – it's not every day you see someone you knew one-thousand, five-hundred years ago, and it stirs something in Loki's chest to know she is not the only one to be so long-lived.

It's rather comforting to be reminded that she's not so alone in the world.

But when she notices Bill striding towards Eric with his jaw clenched, Loki can't resist sending out a tendril of magic to eavesdrop. The younger vampire grabs the Viking's upper arm, and her eyebrows shoot up in unison with Eric's – one has to either be brave or stupid to manhandle a thousand year old vampire.

'_I don't like being touched._' The blonde comments, a promise of extreme violence buried deep under centuries of well practised stoicism.

But the shorter of the two snorts in disdain. '_Believe me, I do not like touching you._' He releases Eric's arm. '_Your contact with Sookie will cease from this moment._'

Loki huffs in bemusement. Really, there are a lot of vampire Sheriff's who would slaughter someone for using that tone. Clearly, Mr. Compton has no self-preservation instincts. '_That's hardly your decision_.' Eric amends, and Loki can _hear _the smirk in his voice.

'_Calling in my maker because you couldn't win Sookie for yourself is feeble and desperate even for you_.'

Bill's maker had been called in? This was news to Loki, though the information clicks into place when she remembers a deep voice informing her that "Bill won't be a problem" two nights ago. But she files it away for later consideration when Eric steps into the other vampire's space threateningly.

'_Are you picking a fight?_' The Viking is clearly amused by the very idea. '_I'd like to see you try._'

'_She will never be yours. And there is nothing you can do. In this you are powerless. Accept it._'

'_There are _plenty _of things I could do to have Sookie Stackhouse if I wanted her. But I find myself in pursuit of better things._'

Loki only has a second to puzzle over his comment before his entrancing blue eyes swing in her direction, and some odd excitement races through her body.

She is used to being coveted; over the many, many centuries of her existence, Loki has had countless creatures want her for her power or her beauty or any other reason you could think of. But this is Eric Northman. Sheriff of Area 5. Viking warrior. The man who once made his prayers heard. _Godric's progeny._

The Pict vampire had always been an excellent judge of character – that his childe is exceptional is not a surprise.

That Loki actually finds herself mildly captivated by him _is._

She has met many, many immortals, yet is close with almost none (family notwithstanding). But there is a spark in Eric's eyes, a certain vivacious lust for life that fades in many vampires within fifty years. It's beautiful, and if Godric had seen it a millennium ago, it's easy to imagine him wanting to hold onto that.

Loki looks away from the Viking, ignoring the smirk playing on his face as he notices her scrutiny. She must be cursed, she thinks, to always become enraptured with the smug ones.

(_Do you really mind? _A small voice pipes up in her mind. She shoos it away.)

She can still hear their conversation, though, and Bill hums in thought. '_Ms. Storm? Eric, she is hardly more than any other mortal girl.'_

'_If you truly believe that, you are even more of an imbecile than I originally thought.'_ Eric shoots back, and Bill scoffs.

'_Oh?'_

'_Indeed.'_ The feel of his eyes on her is like a burning weight on Loki's skin. '_You may keep your telepath, Bill. This one is mine.'_

Loki allows herself a smirk at the sheer arrogance of the statement – she will never be anyone's property – but resists the archaic urge to destroy him for the presumption. She'll let Eric have his delusions.

For now.

She straightens abruptly at the sound of a scuffle, and Isobel, bloody tear-tracks marring her beautiful face, storms towards her Sheriff, dragging a dazed and bruised Hugo behind her.

The latino vampire throws the man at Godric's feet. 'This is the one who betrayed us.'

The watching crowd hisses with contempt, but Godric studies the human before him placidly before looking to his lieutenant. 'He's your human, is he not?'

Isobel swallows, and her voice wavers a little as she answers. 'Yes, he is.'

'...Do you love him?'

'I…' Isobel, despite desperately trying to keep a stoic facade, crumbles under the weight of the question, fresh blood welling in her eyes. 'I thought I did.'

Godric considers her with a little smile. 'It appears you love him still.'

'I do. I'm sorry.' She looks away from the elder vampire, as if ashamed. 'But you are my Sheriff. Do with him as you please.'

Something ripples through Godric's being at the callous words, something almost like disappointment. But he addresses Hugo with practised neutrality. 'You are free to go.'

'What?' Stan, from the midst of the crowd of onlookers snarls in outrage; the sound of it echoes around the nest.

'The human is free to go.' Godric clarifies, turning back to said human. 'And do not return. I fear it is not safe for you here.'

'This is a travesty.'

Stan's words are met with a sharp look. 'This is my verdict. Eric, escort them out. Make sure he leaves unharmed.'

The Viking spares his maker a perplexed glance, but dutifully does as asked, dragging Hugo out of the room by the shoulder

The human catches Loki's eyes, and recoils at her burning expression. He may think her human, but if Godric had gotten hurt in the Church there would be no safety for the traitor.

Godric's mercy had been unexpected, but not unpleasant. Loki takes the lull in activity to approach and plop into a seat beside him on the couch (pointedly ignoring a woman's gasp at her audacity).

'That was very kind of you,' she notes without preamble, voice barely a whisper to keep from being overheard, 'not what I had envisioned.'

'Are you disappointed?'

Her smirk softens imperceptibly. 'Not at all, darling.' Loki crosses her legs, settling more comfortably in her seat as she studies his youthful face. 'I'd be a little aghast if you _hadn't_ changed.'

Godric favours her with a benevolent smile. 'Likewise.'

'Oh?'

'We were both...' His eyes glaze over fractionally as he thinks back. '...very different.'

Loki smirks at the understatement of the century. 'Truer words have never been spoken.'

Godric hums in agreement.

'...I never regretted it, though.' She adds casually, green eyes locking with brown as he looks at her sharply. 'Well, okay, I don't exactly relish the memory of all the killing. But I mean our friendship. It wasn't exactly conventional, but it taught me a lot. It made me better, I think.'

'Really?'

'Yes. So, thank you.'

And because Godric _knows _how much the confession means from her – honesty had not been her forte when they had met (3) – the vampire gives her an incredibly gentle smile.

Loki has never seen that expression on his face before, and it very nearly takes her breath away.

He studies her intently, but the moment is shattered with his next words: 'There was a time when people called you a god.'

'Oh. Yes,' she dips her head, confirming his statement, 'bit of a long story, there.'

'The myths of you... they are very cruel.' (4) Loki determinedly does not flinch, but she feels her face close down and her smile become fixed.

Loki remembers blood and betrayal and _all-consuming rage_; she sees herself, screaming in grief and pain and covered in gore but her soul singing with the bittersweet relief of vengeance. It is with a melancholy awe that Loki marvels at how much events from millennia ago can still hurt her so badly to this day.

But she snaps herself back to the present, shutting the door to her memories with a firm slam and despite her best efforts the faux-smile falls from her lips. He looks like he wishes he could take back the words, but she doesn't give him the chance to.

'The line between truth and fiction is very thin, dear. Just like the one between a villain and a victim.'

Loki scoots closer and presses a kiss to Godric's cool cheek before sliding to her feet and sauntering away with a quiet "talk to you later".

It's not running away, she reminds herself as she snags another glass of very expensive champagne from the refreshments table, if there's no actual running involved.

It's more like a very strategic exit.

Removing herself from an uncertain situation.

(She may actually be running away.)

Knowing that if she allows herself to sink into a sombre mood Loki may spend the rest of the night brooding, she wanders over to Sookie with a smile.

'Hey,' Loki hands the blonde the full champagne flute, 'you feeling okay?'

'Thanks.' Sookie says to the drink, flashing the taller woman a genuine small which Loki is compelled to return. 'I'm fine, honey. How're you doin'?'

The telepath's eyes are shining with concern, and Loki is momentarily puzzled. But then the image of Gabe flashes through her mind's eye, and she wants to smack herself on the forehead. Of course, the average mortal would be a little more shaken by almost-rape – in truth, Loki has just shoved it into the dark corner of her mind that fuels her occasional nightmares (5).

But she smiles weakly, keeping up the facade of humanity. 'I'm... okay, I think.' Loki gives Sookie a once-over, taking in the white skirt suit with a wry quirk of her eyebrow. 'Nice outfit.'

The part-fae giggles. 'Thank you. You're dress is...'

They both give the tiny, skin-tight black thing clinging to Loki's body a simultaneous look of scrutiny, before its wearer gives an exaggerated grimace. 'Don't remind me.'

Sookie's eyes glitter in amusement, but she wisely refrains from commenting.

A flash of red jolts in the corner of her vision, and Loki twists her head to study the rather striking female vampire approaching with a false smile. Impeccably dressed and made-up, she's an old-ish vampire – easily double Bill's age.

And she's nothing but trouble, aura turbulent with hate and jealously and cruelty; Loki unconsciously moves closer to Sookie as the vampire glides towards them.

'Hello, there.' Her voice lilts with a charming Southern accent, and she ignores Loki's presence completely. 'I'm Lorena.'

Oblivious as usual to the tension in Loki's frame, the part-fae smiles cutely at Lorena. 'Nice to meet you. I'm Sookie.'

'Yes.' The vampire's eyes turn cold. 'You are what all the fuss is about.'

'...Excuse me?'

Lorena ignores the blonde's confusion. 'Aren't you a morsel.'

'I'm sorry. Who are you?'

'Well, we have a mutual friend.'

Something visibly shifts into place in Sookie's eyes, and she pales. 'Bill?'

'That's right.' Lorena purrs. 'Funny he never mentioned me - I practically made him what he is today.'

Suddenly, Bill is at Sookie's side, jaw clenched and glaring daggers at the woman – his maker. '_Lorena._'

'Oh, hello, darling.' It's somewhat disturbs her when Loki catches a glimpse of the desperate obsession in Lorena's eye as she looks at her childe. 'I was just getting to know your plaything. You always did like to prey on the innocent.'

'Bill,' Sookie whispers urgently, 'is this your maker?'

'She released me years ago.' He doesn't remove his gaze from Lorena for even a second. 'She no longer has any hold over me.'

'I wouldn't say _that_.' The older vampire winks a Sookie tauntingly. 'We had two _marvellous_ nights in your hotel room.'

'...What?'

'Did you know your boyfriend hit me over the head with a 52-inch plasma television earlier tonight?' Lorena informs them without faltering. 'Everyone says they're so thin and light, but let me tell you, when wielded properly, it's quite a weapon.'

Loki can't help it; she chuckles. It earns her three rather scathing looks, but she waves them off as if to say "go back to ignoring my presence".

Sookie does so, turning to her boyfriend hesitantly. 'You did?'

He growls at his maker, ignoring everything else. 'Lorena, you need to leave.'

'I hope he doesn't pull the same shenanigans with you.' She continues unfazed, shaking her head in mock-sadness. 'There's no excuse for domestic violence.'

'What she has failed to mention is that she was holding me prisoner.' Bill amends through clenched teeth; both Loki and Sookie tense at this, but Lorena merely scoffs.

'We were just catching up is all. You must have been worried sick, wondering where he was. I admit it. It got a bit heated. But you know how old lovers can get sometimes...' She reaches out to stroke Bill's face lovingly, but Sookie slaps the hand away.

'Do not touch him.' The telepath demands tersely. Loki's stomach drops – this is likely not going to end well.

'My, we're feisty too.' Any pretence of friendliness drops from the woman's face as she stares at Sookie. 'You're no more than a blood bag. You cannot win this.'

'I've already won.' The infamous Stackhouse temper flares, and Loki notes absently that everyone in the nest has quieted to watch the spectacle. 'Bill chose me. And yet you still won't give up. Don't you have any shame?'

Bill grunts in alarm, trying to back his girlfriend away from the confrontation. 'Sookie, stop!'

'I'd listen to him.' Lorena advises with a wicked grin. 'Run away, little girl. William and I love each other.'

'You've gone mad.' Bill gasps out, struggling to tug Sookie away still, when suddenly the telepath stills.

'Maybe you do love him. Who am I to guess? But he doesn't love you. He never has, and _that_ we both know.'

Loki almost, _almost, _closes her eyes in exasperation. Really, Sookie is a nice enough girl – but she may need to reconsider being friends with someone with so little self-preservation.

'Take those words back or they shall be your last.' Lorena warns.

'We're leaving!'

'Come on, Sook,' Loki murmurs from the blonde's side, 'just let it go.'

She's ignored. Damn it.

'Go find someone else, you fucking bitch!' The telepath snarls. 'You've lost this one!'

Lorena moves so fast that to a mortal it would all seem to be a blur; Loki see's it all happen in what feels like slow-motion. The older vampire swats Bill out of her way as though he were a moth, moving in front of them swiftly, and pushes Loki back with a sharp shove to the chest, moving to grab Sookie by the throat.

Loki could have easily stayed on her feet – the push was hardly a love-tap on her scale of force – but practically the entire nest is watching the drama, so she allows herself to fly back with the momentum and idly hopes she doesn't land on anything pointy as she sails a good six-feet backwards.

She's rather startled when she lands neatly in a pair of stone cold arms, and she can't stop the startled sound that escapes her lips when the magic flares up at the contact.

Loki twists her head, and Eric stares back, blue eyes scorching with intensity even when his face is perfectly neutral. She manages a slight smile.

'Nice catch.'

The Viking's arms tighten around her, and they turn back towards the commotion in time to see Godric appear and grasp Lorena's throat in a deadly grip. They both watch with bated breath.

(But he doesn't move to release her.)

'Retract… your… fangs. Now.' The words are deathly serious, and Lorena wisely follows instruction; Loki is reminded sharply that Godric has been on this Earth for as long as she has. 'I neither know nor care who you are. But in this area - and certainly in this nest - I am the authority. Do you understand?'

'Yes, sheriff.' The words tremble with fear, completely void of Lorena's previous bravado.

'This human has proven herself to be a courageous and loyal friend to our kind. And yet you treat her like a child does a dragonfly, pulling off wings for sport.' Her old friend makes a noise halfway between disbelief and a deep, profound sense of sadness. 'No wonder they hate us.'

'She provoked me.'

He shrugs off her weak defence. 'And you provoked me. You disrupted the peace in my own home. I could snap you like a twig. Yet I haven't. Now, why is that?'

'It's…' Lorena wavers, 'your choice.'

'Indeed it is. You're an old vampire. I can tell. You've had hundreds of years to better yourself, yet you haven't. You are still a savage, and I fear for all of us, humans and vampires, if this behaviour persists.'

_Oh, Godric. _Held securely in Eric's arms, Loki allows herself to sag a little. The Dallas Sheriff is so full of self-recrimination, of turbulent doubt, it makes part of her want to weep. What has happened to him to make him hate his own race so deeply? Loki will freely admit that vampires aren't her favourite brand of creature overall, but even she knows better than to see them as a collective – let alone one that is entirely evil. Godric instructs Bill to escort Lorena out of the nest in a tense voice, and turns his attention towards her.

He is abruptly a foot in front of her. 'You are unharmed?'

'Of course – thank you.' Her words are uncharacteristically quiet in the face of Godric's soft attentiveness, and he smiles a little as he takes in her position in his childe's arms.

'Tell me,' he prompts, face his usual perfect mask of nothing, 'how did you two meet?'

'She came to my club with Bill Compton and his human some weeks ago.' Eric informs his maker immediately – Loki is torn between rolling her eyes and smiling at the absolute loyalty the Viking holds towards Godric.

It is rather sweet.

But she stiffens, wrenching herself out of Eric's hold. Something was coming; something full of rage and sadness that would bring death – it brings to the fore each of Loki's survival instincts.

She ignores the stares of Eric and Godric, just stares blankly at the doorway and the young man in a trench coat standing there.

'Excuse me, everyone. If I could have your attention.'

His name is Luke McDonald, she plucks from his head. He's 25 years old – hardly a child – and has a sister called Annie. He hates because that's all he learned from the abusive, alcoholic father. He's gay, but terrified to admit to it.

And he's come to kill them all.

'...I have a message for you all from Reverend Steve Newlin.'

The bomb strapped to his chest is wrapped in silver and chunks of wood, she notes. Stan lunges. Sookie gasps. Someone tugs her arm, but Loki flares out her magic to catch all the humans in the nest and slam them to the floor – the vampires can take care of themselves, or at least she hopes they can –

Loki is so preoccupied ensuring that her power does its job that it doesn't occur to her to shield herself until the bomb timer reaches "00:02", and she squeezes her eyes shut in a pre-emptive wince because she has a feeling that being blown up is going to really, really sting.

_Luke McDonald's last thought is of his Mother, singing to him during a thunderstorm to soothe him to sleep._

Boom.

* * *

Author's Note: Oh goodness, it has been _unforgivably long _since I updated this fic, and I apologise from the bottom of my heart to all the fantastic readers who have followed and reviewed and favourite'd. I went through a bought of writer's block that wouldn't budge – on top of the fact that I only just got through exam season, I have been neglecting updates. But excuses only get you so far – I hope everyone reading will be placated by the fact I will be attempting to update this fic every week from here on out. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me far enough to read this. Much love!

(1)Essentially, Murphy's Law is the theory that "everything that can go wrong, will go wrong".

(2)OFC!Loki has a temper tantrum. Mostly I wrote this scene to counteract the relative weakness she displayed in the church. Despite the fact she has her weaknesses, she is not to be trifled with.

(3)In mythology, Loki is sometimes called the God of Lies. In this universe, I like to imagine that OFC!Loki, at the time she met Godric, was every bit as bad as you would imagine someone worthy of that moniker would be.

(4)In my own personal opinion, the Loki of Norse mythology is often screwed over. I don't want to give anything away, because I will be incorporating some of it into this fic, but to me it seems that Loki spends a lot of time helping out the other gods but getting no recognition for it.

(5)I just want to underline the fact that I am in no way, shape, or form undermining the suffering of women who experience assault. Loki's view of this is very much "I refuse to dwell on the horrible thing that happened" – an attitude that may come back to bite her, later.


	11. Chapter Ten

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humour/Romance/Drama/Supernatural

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 5, 529

Summary: Loki Odindóttir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

WARNING: This chapter contains explicit content of a sexual nature.

* * *

Chapter Ten.

'_Who are you?'_

_Panting, Loki stares across the half-decimated clearing at the vampire, body aching with bruising from their vigorous fight. It had been stupid, she realizes in hindsight, for her to come to Midgard on a whim, but she'd honestly not expected to run afoul of the undead. Nonetheless she had held her own – but the man was fast, and the princess couldn't help but be privately relieved that he'd drawn to a halt. _

_But questions weren't what she'd expected._

'_Who wants to know?' The language rolls stiffly from her tongue despite the prideful tone – she's never had much cause to speak in the language of mortals before. The vampire's shoulders buck up in what she can only assume is amusement, and the movement sends the muscles of his bare, ice-white torso rippling. She feels her cheeks flood with heat at the sight._

'_I am called Godric,' he announces without inflection, running a hand through his filthy black hair, 'you fight well.'_

_Her chin twitches up proudly. 'I have been trained by the best.'_

'_Oh?' Godric scoffs a mite scornfully. 'I'll believe you, though millions wouldn't, Princess.'_

_It'll be months before he learns exactly how accurate the title is for her._

* * *

There's blood in her mouth.

Loki blinks, staring dazedly up at the ceiling. Her ears are ringing faintly, but the dull sensation of disorientation is fading quickly – Æsir heal fast, but explosions throw most creatures off balance.

She frowns suddenly. She's aware enough to tell that her magic prevented any cuts, and she hadn't been close enough to the bomber to have gotten splattered (Loki grimaces at the thought).

But there's blood in her mouth.

Brows furrowed, Loki moves to sit up, struggling against the weight pinning her legs to the floor. But when what she'd assumed to be debris grunts in discontent at the movement, she freezes.

Eric is sprawled over her, face buried in her stomach and groaning. Clearly, he'd jumped her before the bomb went off, and taken a bunch of silver to the back in the process.

'Eric,' her words are barely a whisper, but he hears her and looks up nonetheless, '...are you okay?'

'I...' A slow, devious smile spreads over his mouth, and Loki's blood runs cold. 'I am _very _well.'

It clicks in her mind as she takes in his almost smug expression, the half healed wound on the Viking's shoulder, _the blood in her mouth._

'Well, fuck.'

Eric grins through his fangs.

xXx

From Godric's side, Eric looks around the smoking carcass of what was once his maker's home without expression. The Fellowship of the Sun are obviously fanatical, but a suicide bomber had been unprecedented, and Area 9 have suffered for overlooking the possibility.

Although - Eric's eyes flick to the dark-haired woman helping various stunned humans off the ground – he seems to have benefitted unexpectedly from the attack.

It was only earlier in the evening that he had staked his claim to her, and Eric has always planned for her to take his blood as some point to attain some control in their odd relationship. Judging from the dismay that had coursed through her, though, Victoria is not pleased at all with the development, and she'd stared at him with wide eyes for a long moment before shoving him away wordlessly and moving to check on the other survivors – it's just as well it'd happened on accident, he supposes.

Victoria's emotions are curious; from the second his blood had hit the back of her throat Eric had become acutely aware of her, but the strength of her feelings are a bit of a shock. When he had made a blood bond with Victoria's V-dealing friend before coming to Dallas (1), the man's emotions had been consciously separate from Eric's own – with Victoria herself it feels as though her emotions are so strong they are leaking into him.

There is also the matter of Godric to consider, Eric thinks as he watches Victoria glance at the still form of his maker. Whenever she looks his way there is a sharp spike in fondness, of familiarity. The Viking, having been watching their interactions closely all night, thinks Ms. Stackhouse may have been right about them knowing one another.

But the thought only prompts more questions. Why had the woman not mentioned knowing the Sheriff she'd been looking for? Why had Godric himself not said anything on the matter? It seems the more he learns of Victoria, the further her mystery deepens.

Eric is pulled from his musings when Godric calls the room to attention.

'They may come back.' He announces stonily. 'Go to the Hotel Camilla, they've been alerted, security is in place.'

He looks on as his maker weaves through the wreckage without further comment, his shoulders tense, and Eric is overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding worry for the older vampire that threatens to choke him with it strength.

It's only when he chances a glance at Victoria and sees her watching Godric with furrowed brows and searching eyes that he realises the emotion is not his own. He appears before her in a flash, and she blinks her impossibly green eyes up at him. The surge of lust at his proximity makes him smirk, but Victoria balks away from the expression. Strong emotions whirl through the bond, a confused muddle, and Eric watches with no small interest as she pushes against the attraction that is so prevalent after having his blood, until finally the emotion is dim in comparison to her annoyance.

'I _don't like_ this.' She informs him imperiously, and Eric can't help but admire her tenacity, even if it means she is depriving them both.

'I'm sure you'll get used to it.' He jerks his head in the direction of the exit. 'Come.'

Victoria marches past him, alight in indignation and nagging arousal.

_Oh_, Eric thinks, _this will be fun._

* * *

Alone in her hotel room, Loki slips into the free-standing bath-tub of her en-suite with a long sigh and lets her head fill with quiet.

Vampire blood creates bonds. It creates _life_. It makes humans strong and heightens their senses. It makes the two-natured crazy_._

Loki has never had vampire blood before, despite being rather curious of its affect on an Asgardian. The magic that flows through the veins of a vampire and her own power are very different, and the risks were simply too great for her to experiment with combining the two. When it'd hit her that she'd accidently consumed Eric's she half expected to combust and take half of the state with her.

She hadn't, and it doesn't look like she will, but Loki feels undeniably on edge. Her magic is circulating her being at double time, hyperactive and desperate to be used. Everything is suddenly in sharp-focus, like she's seeing with Æsir vision despite her human form. Perhaps most alarming is the inexplicably sensual feeling that sparks through her skin at every sensation: the feel of hot water lapping at her neck, the brush of one leg against another, the odd tickling of all her erogenous zones as they beg to be touched.

Loki hasn't been so turned on in centuries.

And even though she's livid that she'd swallowed Eric's blood, deeply sad that the nest had been destroyed, insanely worried about Godric and the look on his face (one of despondent, all-consuming helplessness), the feeling conquers all others.

_Don't forget,_ the coherent voice in the corner of her mind nags her, _there's important stuff going on. There's a maenad in Bon Temps, you're bonded to a vampire Sheriff, Godric is slipping away... _

Despite the reminder, Loki can't help whimper when a cool hand pulls her back against a hard chest, and the man behind her nuzzles her throat.

'Hmm,' the smirk is audible in Eric's voice as two he settles her comfortably between his legs in the tub, 'you just can't get enough, can you?'

She gasps as he sucks tauntingly as the delicate pale skin of her neck, remaining stubbornly silent. The Viking at her back chuckles darkly, a hand ghosting over her right breast to settle over the taught skin of her stomach.

'Admit it,' he urges, voice a whisper dripping in sin, 'you want me.'

'You're too cocky.' She reprimands. The denial in her words is offset by the breathy tone, though, and it only seems to encourage him.

'You want me to ravage you,' Eric's fingers draw teasing circles above her womb, the touch making her ache, '_ruin_ you,' he pulls her tighter against him, and the evidence of his own excitement is pressed to the small of Loki's back – she groans, 'over and over again until you remember nothing but pleasure.'

'No.' The denial is weak even to her own ears, but a hand fists in her hair, pulling her neck back at an awkward angle so she can stare into ocean-blue eyes.

'You want me to make you mine.' Eric informs her, and the certainty of his words - the impossible tenderness of his expression - breaks her restraint.

'Only if you are mine, too,' she says, surging forward to kiss him. He meets her half-way, enthusiastic and passionate as she's always imagined. The hand on her stomach slips lower, and first touch to her centre sending her head spinning and hips grinding back against him. The Viking growls, and Loki nips at his bottom lip in response, but breaks away to draw a ragged breath when a long finger works its way inside her. Eric takes the opportunity to draw a hot path down her throat with his tongue, and her head falls over his shoulder to allow him easier access.

Eric's fangs drop with a click, and when he makes no move to proceed, she brings a coaxing hand up to the back of his neck.

'Do it, Eric.'

He gives a rumble of feral approval, speeds the movement of his hand, and lays a soft kiss to the artery. 'Yes, Loki.'

_Oh. _Facts click into place in her mind, and the Asgardian only has time to feel two pinpricks at her neck before she jolts upright with a gasp.

She is, unsurprisingly, alone, and sitting in a tub of cold water.

_Fucking Helheim_ (2)_. _Loki hops out of the bath, shivering at the cool air and wrapping herself in the thickest, fluffiest towel she can find and drying quickly. It was a testament to how tired her mind had been that she hadn't recognised she was dreaming from the start, but the sex dream about Eric Northman hadn't been coincidental.

Staring at the mirror above the sink, her reflection draws a great sigh. She'd been hoping that _this _was one side-effect of vampire blood that she could avoid, but it appears that today is not her lucky day.

Loki is self-aware enough to acknowledge her own attraction to the Viking vampire, but years of experience tell her that with the addition of a blood bond that their relationship – and the feelings within it – is going to become muddled. Not to mention that even if Eric decides to never contact her again (which she somehow doubts) he'll inevitably become curious when he still feels her through the bond in 80 years. The Asgardian supposes that the chance of him figuring out her magical capabilities is high, and she doesn't particularly mind the prospect of him finding this out – Eric already knows that she is different.

But the idea of being revealed to be "Loki"? Only the oldest and those at the very top of the vampire totem pole know of the existence of the Aesir, and it is not a secret that is circulated in the community.

She dries her hair with a burst of power, slips into her nightclothes and pads quietly out the bathroom to sprawl on top of the bed with a huff. Loki doesn't consider herself a god. She is_ powerful_, but certainly not omnipotent, and it's very, very rare in this day and age for her to hear a prayer in her name. These justifications would mean little if her true identity were to be brought to light, though, and expectations for her character tend to be rather high (or low, depending on the individual).

Loki allows her eyes to drift shut, feeling the fatigue of the day working over her and giving in to the urge to sleep. She and Sookie had been informed before they were sent off to their rooms that they will be meeting with Nan Flanagan the second the sun sets, and that will likely be tiresome. And aggravating, if "The Face of Vampire Affairs" is as much of a raging bitch that Loki suspects she is.

It's gonna be a long night.

* * *

Hours later, Loki is sprawled beside a still-dead Godric, reading _Tolstoy, _and waiting for him to wake for the night. When she had woken at 5pm, she'd spread her magic around to check on her friends, and been unable to resist peeking into Godric's subconscious mind.

The fact that her old friend dreams of the sunrise scares her more than Loki cares to admit, so the Asgardian had seen fit to take pre-emptive action, and it had meant calling in a great deal of favours to secure what she wanted.

Now, though, she finally feels in control of the situation and she takes a moment to breathe. When Godric comes awake with a rush of magic so potent it sends goosebumps down her arms, Loki smiles at him gently.

'_Good morning._'

He looks up at her with soft eyes, only minutely surprised to see her in his bed, and responds in Latin. '_Hello again, Loki._'

It is odd to hear her true name after so long, but in his voice (and in the language they spoke when they first met) it is a little wondrous. Her expression brightens as she rolls onto her side to face him fully. '_I wanted a moment alone with you,' _she confesses, '_I never expected to find you here.'_

Godric makes a sound of agreement. '_I could say the same; you go well with my progeny._'

'_Ah yes, Eric,'_ Loki gives a slight wince, '_the vampire I've been accidentally bonded too.' _She shakes off her troubled thoughts on the situation. '_Still, he is surprisingly tolerable._'

'_Perhaps that is not so unexpected.' _Slowly, almost tentatively, the vampire reaches out to stroke his thump gently over the pale column of Loki's neck. '_I have always favoured the beautiful and strong.'_

She can't help but close her eyes at the contact, the motion still so familiar after so long it makes her chest ache. '_Such a wonder...'_ she breathes '..._for you to still be here after so many centuries.'_

Godric's hand falters. '_A wonder?'_

Loki catches his hand in hers before he can pull it back, and she gives him a beaming smile even though her stomach drops at the doubt in his voice. '_Always a wonder to see you, my bright star.'_

'_So you say.'_

'_Indeed. You should heed my words, you know.'_ She informs him with mock-severity. '_I am a "goddess", after all.'_

He chuckles – it's a small victory in the face of his deep-rooted turmoil, but a victory nonetheless.

Godric doesn't pry, even though she is certain he is incredibly curious as to how she became thought of as a deity – and a sinister one, at that – and it is both a relief and a shock. A millennium and a half ago, he would have asked even if the delicacy of the situation was clear. But they settle back onto the pillows, shoulders just barely touching, and bask in the peace of one another.

Then Loki takes a steadying breath, and opens her mouth.

'_I was banished from Asgard about 500 years after we parted._' She stares determinedly forward even as he twists her stare at her assessingly. '_I did something... and came to this realm for refuge. But they followed, and my infamy came with them.'_

'_What did you do?'_ His tone is without inflection – nothing could shock the man who's seen and done the worst things imaginable, she supposes. It allows her to answer almost immediately.

'_I killed my brother.'_

Godric doesn't even blink. _'Did he deserve it?'_

She finally looks at Godric, and she knows her eyes are stony, her mouth twisted up into a horrible mockery of a smile that is probably more bitter than she means it to be.

'_I have done... many truly awful things in my life,' _she admits, '_and I regret so many – have sought atonement for _so many..._ but I would kill that scum over and over for eternity if I had to without any remorse.'_

And because he knows her – knows it isn't like her to exaggerate when it comes to something so serious – Godric merely accepts this with a nod and quirks a brow. '_And... what did _he _do?'_

Loki sighs.

'_He destroyed me.'_

The Pict vampire sits up, staring down at her with his young face and ancient eyes. '_You seem perfectly whole to me._'

'_I am as undamaged as you are content._' She gives a rueful chuckle. _'The lies we tell ourselves are often the most untrue._'

Godric hums in agreement, and they share a moment of silent contemplation before Loki rolls of the bed, leans down to press a kiss to his cheek and makes to leave him to get ready.

'I will see you at the meeting, Victoria.' He calls after her, and she turns back only to shoot him a wink as she saunters out the door...

...and bumps straight into a firm, cool chest.

The violent, surge of lust that rips through her when she registers just who she's run into leaves her severely unimpressed. 'Hello, Eric.'

'Hello, Victoria.' The Viking smirks down at her, obviously enjoying the insight into her feelings. 'Did you sleep well?'

_Eugh. _Of course the _oskilgetinn _(3) knew she'd dreamt of him – of them – almost all day. Rolling her eyes, Loki side-steps him and continues on down the hallway.

'Goodbye, Eric.'

'Tell me: how exactly do you know my maker?'

She halts five paces away from him, shoulders tensing minutely. The Asgardian had hoped that perhaps her familiarity with Godric had escaped Eric's notice, but it appears not. Loki pivots to face him, studying his intent expression, and decides it would be pointless to attempt to deny his accusation. So she gives her most seductive smile.

'Why, Mr. Northman,' she tilts her head coyly, 'a lady never tells.'

Loki resumes her march down the hallway before he can respond, and sincerely hopes that he feels that smug triumph that fills her being at being able to outmanoeuvre him yet again.

xXx

Seeing as the vampires she knows are all tied up in bureaucratic bullshit for what will likely be a few hours, Loki elects to visit Sookie and Jason. The Stackhouse siblings greet her genially, ushering her into Bill's hotel room and gathering in the lounge to talk.

Although she had noticed his present at Godric's nest last night, Loki hasn't given much thought to Jason's presence in Dallas, and she tells him so. The man rubs the back of his neck and sheepishly explains that he _had _been a so-called "Soldier of the Sun" until he heard tell of Sookie's imprisonment and dropped everything to help his sister. The Asgardian doesn't think much of Jason – he's rough all over and as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face – but he's got a good heart, and his devotion to his family is a little heart-warming. So:

'As long as you've learnt your lesson about fanatic, vampire-hating cults, I don't hold it against you.' She tells him with a little smirk. The sibling's chuckle in unison and Sookie nudges her brother with a teasing elbow.

'He better have,' the telepath's eyes twinkle as she looks to Loki with wide eyes, 'after all, he and Bill had a man t' man chat last night.'

They share a giggle when Jason flushes pink in embarrassment.

'Speakin' of last night,' his blue eyes darken, and any amusement vanishes from both women – Jason's expression makes it clear exactly which part of the night he's talking about, 'I heard tell that three vamps died, and a girl lost a leg.'

Sookie looks down sadly, and Loki allows herself a mental pat on the back because the casualties could have been a lot worse. But... 'Do you know which vampires?'

'Bill said their names were Catherine, err- Paul?'

'Paulo.' Loki corrects softly. He'd been the chatty young vampire behind the bar.

'Paulo.' The telepath agrees with a bob of her head. 'And Stan.' _Oh. _The Asgardian can't keep from wincing – Jason catches it.

'Did'ya... know him?' He hedges tentatively, but it's Sookie who answers.

'We both did – he weren't subtle about his dislike for humans, though.'

Loki sighs, bringing a hand up to massage her temple in a motion often made during times of high stress. 'Stan was the one who led the Dallas vampires into the church.'

'_Oh._' The siblings intone in unison, then: 'So, why exactly are you upset?' Jason pushes.

'Well, if he were still around then the vampire higher-ups would have someone to punish for almost causing a massacre.' Loki purses her lips, glancing almost instinctively in the direction of the door. 'But he isn't, so the blame will most likely go to the Sheriff of the Area.'

'But that's not fair!' Sookie protests immediately, almost jumping to her feet in a fit of pique. 'Godric _saved _everyone in the Fellowship, all of us. Shouldn't he be rewarded?'

Loki agrees entirely, but no-one has ever accused the vampire chain-of-command of being just. So she offers the blondes a melancholy smile and shrugs one shoulder: 'Politics.'

The Stackhouse's' look infinitely saddened, obviously having the common sense to know that Godric is the last person in the entire debacle who should be named the bad-guy. 'Whattd'ya think they'll do to him, Vick?'

Remembering Sookie's previous brush with vampire law enforcement (that resulted in a 17-year-old step-childe) Loki is quick to reassure her. 'Nothing barbaric. It'll probably just be a slap on the wrist.'

(And _Odin, _she hopes it's true. Because if Nan Flanagan takes away his duties as Sheriff, it'll be cutting the last tie to the world – the last thing keeping Godric from oblivion. And even if deep, deep down Loki knows that if he truly wants to end his existence he will no matter what, she doesn't want to have to face the idea that her old friend, her _brightest star, _may go where she can't follow.)

She's pulled from her dire musings when Sookie gives a deep sigh of relief at the pacifying words. 'That's good,' the telepath concurs, 'but really they shouldn't do anything to him at all.'

Jason nods in agreement, staring fixedly at his clenched hands. 'Poor little guy...'

Loki breaks down in giggles before she can stop herself, shoulders shaking with the force of her mirth. The Stackhouse's' shoot her concerned looks, but she waves them off.

'"Little guy",' she gasps, 'he's... two-_thousand _years old!'

And just like that, they join her in their laughter.

* * *

'Do you have any fucking idea of the PR mess you've made?' Are the first words out of Nan Flanagan's mouth the moment the meeting begins. All the humans present flinch minutely. 'And who fucking has to clean that shit up? Me. Not you, me. I should drain every one of you bastards.'

One glance at Godric's downcast expression and the defeated slump of his posture is enough for the hope in Loki's chest to shrivel into nothingness, and she watches on with a straight back and an odd sense of detachment.

Eric seems to be the only one with any willingness to fight back against the acidic words. 'Stan went after the church on his own. None of us knew anything about it.'

'Oh, really?' Nan narrows her eyes at the Viking. 'Because everyone who met Stan in the last 300 years knew he had a kink about slaughtering humans. But you, his nest mates, his sheriff, had no clue.'

'And how were we supposed to know that this time he meant it?' Isabel demands, accent more pronounced in her anger. Nan scoffs.

'Not my problem.' Steely eyes fix on Godric, pointing the finger of blame. 'Yours.'

'Don't talk to him that way.' Eric spits.

'Don't talk to _me_ that way.' For a long moment, Loki suspects that he will leap over the coffee table and rip out the woman's throat. But a wordless glance from his maker has him settling back reluctantly, and Nan shakes herself. 'Let's get to the point. How did they manage to abduct you?'

From his place between Isabel and Eric, Godric looks impossibly small. 'They would have taken one of us sooner or later. I offered myself.'

'Why?' Nan demands, sounding honestly shocked.

Godric's only answer is a self-deprecating little smile and a quiet "Why not?"

'They wanted you to meet the sun and you were _willing_?'

'What do you think?'

_Oh, Godric._ Loki fights the urge to bury her face in her hands and cry like the child she is not. It is one thing to know that her old friend is seeking the true death, but it's quite another to hear the words straight from the horse's mouth. And judging from the stricken, heart-sick look on Eric's face he feels the same. Nan, however, overcomes her surprise to sneer at the Sheriff.

'I think you're out of your mind.' She spits. 'And then I hear about a traitor.'

Isabel's hands clench into fists on her lap, but Godric waves a hand benevolently. 'Irrelevant. Only a rumor, I'll take full responsibility.'

The public face of the A.V.L. snorts. 'You bet you will.'

'You cold bitch.' The Viking accuses – he's favoured with a severely unimpressed look.

'Listen, this is a national vampire disaster and nobody at the top has any sympathy for any of you.' Nan draws a calming breath, glancing briefly at the papers in her lap. 'Sheriff, you fucked up. You're fired.'

_No._

'I agree.' Godric says immediately. 'Of course, Isabel should take over. She had no part in my disgrace.'

But Isabel herself is looking at the Pict vampire with wide eyes. 'Godric, fight back.'

_Fight back, fight _back.

'What are you saying? She's a bureaucrat, you don't have to take shit from her.' It's the first time she's ever heard Eric raise his voice, and any other time she might react – but Loki can barely hear over the white noise ringing in her ears.

'You wanna lose your area, Viking?'

'You don't have that kind of power.'

'Hey, I'm on TV. Try me.'

'I'm to blame.' Isabel cuts in to keep things from escalating. 'I should have contained Stan the second Godric went missing.'

'Isabel.' The oldest vampire in the room shoots his lieutenant a sympathetic but firm look. 'I remove myself from all positions of authority.'

_No no no no._

'Works for me.'

'Ms Flanagan,' Sookie's southern twang cuts through the room. 'Godric rescued me and Vick from a really large rapist who probably would've killed us too.'

'That's nice. Moving on...'

Loki's tenuous hold on her temper snaps, and even a newborn vampire would be able to identify the thick, viscous power that fills the room. The picture frames on the wall shudder, the vampires all freeze, searching for the source of the threat, and it's only when Sookie begins coughing violently does she relent the onslaught of power.

'Ms. Flanagan,' the deadly edge to Loki's voice is unmistakable, and it certainly pinpoints her as the source of the magic – most everyone present stares wide-eyed, but her green eyes are locked on vampire before her, 'I advise that you listen to Ms. Stackhouse's testimony – and record it. As is only appropriate for the sake of the A.V.L's equality agenda.'

They hold eye contact for a moment that seems to stretch unreasonably, a clash of wills between two powerful creatures. Only when Nan glances down with a scoff does Loki allow herself a victorious smirk.

'Fine. Go on, Ms. Stackhouse.'

Sookie, who has been attempting to bore a hole in the side of Loki's head with her eyes, clears her throat nervously. 'G-Godric rescued all the humans in that church plus a whole lot of vampires. If you think it's a PR mess now, just imagine what it'd be without him. It could have been a hundred, a million times worse.'

Nan gives a disbelieving _humph_, but snaps her attention back to the Asgardian. 'And you, Mage; anything to add?'

(In her peripheral vision, she see's Eric give a little start at the title.)

A part Loki wants to announce that she has the ear of the very top of the Authority; that she could rip Nan apart with little more than a thought and the inclination for bloodshed; that Godric is worth 100 members of the A.V.L. on his worst day.

But because she's already revealed far, far too much about herself (and because the glint of wariness in Nan's eye soothes her savage temper) Loki's reply is placid.

'Godric did the right thing in offering himself to the Fellowship.' And oh, it burns her to even voice the lie. 'If he hadn't, they would have taken another vampire by force, and the search for an underling would be disorganised, messy. It would have started with one or two vampires searching – probably going into the church and being staked before they saw it coming. Then a eventually someone would notice disappearing nest-mates, so they'd take it to the lieutenants. Isabel would likely take it straight to Godric, but Stan?' Loki shakes her head meaningfully. 'You said yourself that Stan had a kink for killing humans – he'd gather a mob of bloodthirsty idiots, and he'd go straight to the Fellowship, and he'd slaughter _every human there_ before there was even a chance to stop him. Godric did what any good leader would do – what a smart Sheriff would do – and gave himself over to ensure maximum attention and effort was put into finding him.'

'Victoria...' Loki spares Godric a glance at the quiet call. He's looking at her like he's never seen her before, and it makes her smile.

'Really, Ms. Flanagan, considering things worked out with a grand total of two human casualties – one a suicide bomber and one the aforementioned "really large rapist" – ' green eyes sparkle as they cut back to the vampire sitting across from her, 'you should be thanking him.'

'You make a pretty argument,' Nan comments, but gives a careless shrug, 'but someone's gotta take the blame for this shit-storm, and Godric has already agreed to take the heat that came from his piss-poor judgement.'

Loki clenches her jaw, and Eric lunges, intent on paying back the insult to his maker. Isabel's hand holding him back is the only thing that stops him.

'Eric, Victoria,' Godric addresses his staunchest defenders firmly, 'it doesn't matter.'

'Tell me about the bombing, please.' Nan commands after the room has taken a moment to cool down. 'Every single detail.'

The Pict vampire does so, and Loki wants to rage against his calm facade. Personally, she doesn't give a damn if he is King of Texas or a no-title underling in the middle of Alaska as long as Godric is content. The problem is that in his current state of mind he will never be content until he's standing before the sunrise, and it's... it's giving up before the fight's begun. And that is everything Loki, a survivor above all else, stands against.

But all too soon the meeting is drawing to a close, and Nan sighs heavily as she stands. 'Godric, come to my suite to fill out the forms.'

'Soon. First I have something to say.' He addresses the entire room. 'I'm sorry. I apologize for all the harm I've caused, for all our lost ones, human and vampire. I will make amends, I swear it.'

'Take it easy, it's just a few signatures.' Nan assures, perplexed, and the Asgardian has to close her eyes because it _isn't about the fucking paperwork_.

Loki has lived long enough to know a suicide note when she hears it, and apparently so has Eric, because he sounds absolutely wrecked when he speaks.

'_No_.'

The Asgardian opens her eyes in time to see the pleading look pass across Godric's face. 'Look in my heart.'

'You have to listen to me.'

'There's nothing to say.'

'There _is_.'

The Pict vampire's expression goes through such a visible cycle of pity and sadness and the most overwhelming affection that Loki can see the moment that he decides to hear his progeny out.

'On the roof.' Godric commands, and then he is gone.

And she follows him, ignoring the curious gazes of Sookie and Bill and Isabel and brushing gently past a statue-still Eric: because how could she not?

Loki is unfailingly loyal who have earned it, after all, and even 1500 years can't change that.

* * *

Author's Note: Haha! The cat is out of the bag… sort-of. The whole "Mage" thing will be explained soon, so hang in there! As usual, I was blown away by all the reviews and favourites and follows, so thank you to everyone that took the time to respond. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter – I was a little nervous about it, especially with the revelation of OFC!Loki's reason for leaving Asgard, so I'd appreciate opinions on that. The next chapter is a big one, so prepare yourselves!

(1) In True Blood canon, Eric gives Lafayette his blood to heal him from his injuries – as he didn't get hurt in this fic, let's just assume he found another sneaky way to get his way. I'll elaborate on this in later chapters.

(2) OFC!Loki's equivalent of saying "Fucking Hell" – Helheim itself is the realm of the underworld, and though it is also called "Hel", in this fic Hel is a person.

(3) A Norse insult that literally translates to "born out of wedlock". Basically, OFC!Loki's calling him a bastard.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humour/Romance/Drama/Supernatural

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 5, 796

Summary: Loki Odindóttir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

WARNING: This chapter contains pretty explicit mention of infanticide – please proceed with caution.

* * *

Chapter Eleven.

On the whole, it's hard to shock a thousand-year-old vampire. Eric isn't by any means the oldest vampire in the world (he's not even the oldest in his own Area) but for a long time he'd thought he'd seen everything the world had to offer him. Other vampires were the same. Humans began to blur together in his mind. Those he called close to him were familiar.

Then Sookie Stackhouse had blown into Shreveport like stray tumbleweed and suddenly he is confronted by a telepathic barmaid.

And Victoria, the woman who guards her secrets like a lioness guards her cubs, reveals herself to be a wielder of _magic _in defence of his maker – who, apparently, she knows intimately.

His _maker _who is determined to meet the sun.

If it were possible for vampires to suffer from panic attacks, Eric would say he was in the midst of one. However, as it is not, and because a trivial emotion such as fear is something he never wants to display in view of Bill Compton, he fixes his mask of nothing firmly in place.

'Ms. Stackhouse, Mr. Compton, Isabel,' he addresses the remaining occupants of the room, 'if you'll excuse me...'

'One moment, Eric.' Bill steps into the Viking's path unflinchingly. Eric has never been more tempted to rip the younger vampire's head from his neck. 'Did you know Ms. Storm was a _mage_?'

'No.' He replies shortly. 'Get out of my way.'

'_Bill_,' the telepath's voice is a little exasperated as she tugs at her boyfriend's arm, 'now is _not _the time.'

'But Sookie!' He protests with a furrowed brow. 'Mages are unimaginably dangerous – you felt her power...'

'Oh, hush,' Sookie interrupts with a scoff, 'Vick ain't dangerous just 'cos she's different.'

'But...'

'_Bill. _It's nearly dawn,' Sookie's eyes flick to Eric meaningfully, 'we should go to bed.'

Compton deflates, grudgingly allowing himself to be pulled away, and Eric spares a moment to nod shallowly in thanks to the telepath before he speeds towards the stairs. Really, he may have to keep the Stackhouse girl around if just for her ability to make Bill heel so obediently.

He'll think on it later, he supposes, when every cell in his body is no longer screaming "_Godric_" with all their might. The bond between maker and childe is almost impossible to describe in petty words – it goes beyond even the connection between blood family – and Eric has never been more aware of it than he is right now, facing the prospect of his maker's true death.

As he staggers out onto the roof of the hotel in the pre-dawn light, one thought rings through Eric's mind: _not if I can help it._

xXx

Stood on the roof of the Hotel Camilla, cloaked in magic and completely undetectable, Loki stares out at the brightening horizon and tries to keep herself together as, behind her, maker and progeny say what could be their final goodbye.

Mostly, though, she tries to keep herself from bellowing refutes at every defeatist word that comes out of her old friend's mouth.

'Two thousand years is enough.' He says, benevolent, and Loki thinks _does that mean I should have died before we even met, dear? _

'I can't accept this, it's insanity.' Eric gasps out, eyes ringed with red.

'Our _existence_ is insanity.' He corrects, looking away from the horizon to meet his childe's eyes. 'We don't belong here.'

'But we are here!' The Viking roars – Godric only shakes his head sadly.

'It's not right. _We're_ not right.'

'You taught me there is no right or wrong, only survival or death.' Loki has to close her eyes to hear those words – _their _words – repeated by the Viking. It'd been the motto of a pair of old souls trapped in children's bodies, scrabbling for meaning in their immoral existences.

Godric must remember it too, because his eyes flicker with remembrance. 'I told a lie, as it turns out.'

The Viking stalks closer, stopping a foot away and jaw set stubbornly. 'I will keep you alive by force.'

'Even if you could,' his voice drops to a whisper, 'why would you be so cruel?'

And though Loki doesn't dare glance back, she hears a part of Eric's ill-kept heart shatter when he chokes out his words. '_Godric, don't do it_.'

'_There are centuries of faith and love between us._' Swedish flows as fluidly from his tongue as if he spoke it every day – that his words are beautiful is just a bonus.

'_Please. __**Please**_.' Eric sobs, collapsing to his knees under the weight of his grief. '_Please, Godric_.'

'Fader. Broder. Son.' The Pict vampire names him gently, sounding choked himself. 'It is nearly dawn.'

'I won't leave you alone.' The blonde gasps out stubbornly.

'Yes. You will.' Godric tells him gently. 'As your Maker I command it.'

Eric leaves very slowly and without taking his eyes off the shorter vampire, and Loki turns in time only catch a glimpse of the bloody tear tracks on the Viking's face before he disappears back inside the safety of the hotel. Only then does she dare walk to Godric's side.

But even the fact that he is perceptive to her power won't help him sense her presence through so many layers of spells – to him, he's as good as alone on the rooftop.

A big part of her wants to make herself known, offer some words of wisdom to help him. But theirs has never been a relationship made up of long, invasive talks. It's always been about the little things, the tiny gestures they make towards one another that had proven the depth of their friendship. Which is why Loki stands silently, invisible at her old friends side as the sun's first rays peak over the horizon, and readies herself for something risky.

Because if Godric wants to see the sun, that's fine – he never said anything about being averse to living afterwards, though.

The rays of dawn light touch his eternally young face for the first time in two-thousand years, and the Pict vampire draws a ragged breath of preparation. But her magic bursts out of her, cocooning him in layer upon layer of shields before the sun can do anything more than heat the skin of his cheeks, and Godric's next intake of breath is a sob, and Loki's heart soars in relief.

Once upon a time, people called Loki the god of fire (1) – a moniker born from the fact that millennia ago, when first coming into her power, the young princess of Asgard's first feat of magic was flame manipulation. It's a story all but forgotten to history, but it doesn't change the fact that Loki has an innate affinity for the element. Holding back the beams of heat that would usually reduce the undead to dust is something she has never attempted, something that – if it got out – could have dangerous implications, but as she stands beside Godric, she really couldn't care about anything more than the fact that it's _working_.

And the Pict vampire is so beautiful in the light a breath catches in her chest.

Her old friend staggers to the ground, red rivers carving their way down his porcelain face as he revels in the beauty of a fresh day and Loki watches on from his side like a centurion watching over her battalion.

'I don't know what to do.' He gasps between sobs. His breathing is ragged, his fists clenched in the material of his trousers and face soaked in blood – he looks like some sacred creature, praying for guidance.

_Godric, darling_, Loki thinks with a bemused shake of her head and a fond smile, _get off the roof_.

Almost as if he hears the thought, only a moment later Godric collects himself enough to stagger back into the building radiating the sun's warmth and a sense of absolution, and Loki lingers a moment in the open air.

And she smiles at the busy Dallas skyline, the colours painting the sky and the early birds who have begun their song – because, really, one should always take joy in the dawn of a new day.

'Thank you.' She whispers into the crisp air seconds before disappearing in a maelstrom of magic. Loki isn't sure who she's thanking, exactly, but she figures the right being will get the message eventually.

* * *

In Godric's hotel suite, Eric rages against the world.

He's seen his family ripped apart by wolves, and had his human life ended by a lucky sword strike. His revenge for his family isn't yet complete, and the end of his human life had meant the beginning of something better, the promise of a new world with Godric as his guide.

_But Godric lied. _

With a snarl, the Viking flips a sofa one-handed into a wall – its metal frame bends irreversibly on impact, and he is filled with dark satisfaction at the dent it leaves in the solid wood of the panel. Eric wants to reduce the whole hotel to nothing more than debris and take its occupants with it, he wants to tear the throats out of all that cross his path, he wants the world to burn while he sits back and watches and does nothing-

-because then maybe the world will know how he feels in this moment. The fight leaks from Eric's muscles, and he drops to his knees on the carpet clutching a hand to his chest and contemplating ripping out his own heart. Because this feeling? This overwhelming, gut-wrenching, all-consuming agony? Surely it's worth dying the true death just to get the pain to _stop_ for just one second. Distantly, he is aware that his body is heaving with great sobs, tears he would one day deny shedding pooling in grim little crimson puddles below him.

'My childe.'

Eric freezes – his very soul stills. He must have gone mad, somewhere in the haze of grief and rage he must have lost himself but Godric is _dead _and hearing a dead man's voice isn't possible. An achingly familiar hand settles on the crown of his blonde head, and he thinks he might be dead, too, for his maker to touch him so solidly and maybe that isn't so bad (because Godric is with him, at least).

'Oh _Eric.' _His maker's voice is devastated. 'I'm so sorry.'

The Viking daren't glance up, doesn't want to look, but he _has _to, just to check, just to be sure...

...and Godric stares down at him, sadness written all across his face and still in the damn destroyed room, and the axis tilts, spins. Gravity shifts, and the sun eclipses the moon and stars wink down at him from the blue sky of midday because it's _impossible._

But Godric is _here._

Eric gapes up at his father (his brother, his son) and without a word the Pict vampire guides him to his feet and pulls him through the apocalyptic room and into the bedroom his maker had claimed as his own and settles him on the plush mattress. The Viking lets be laid down like a child, and unabashedly curls around Godric like the shorter vampire is a doll to be held to the chest through a nightmare.

His maker mutters meaningless nonsense in his ear to sooth him to sleep, and Eric clings desperately to the waking world just to reassure himself that this isn't some phantom conjured by his grieving mind to bring comfort, but the struggle is futile against the call of the sun.

The last thing Eric registers before losing himself for the day is a soft knocking on the door of the hotel room.

xXx

When Loki tentatively pushes open the door to the suite, she is expecting the worst – piles of drained corpses and gore on the ceiling and possibly some kicked puppies in a corner. In retrospect, the furniture massacre is positively restrained, but she still picks her way across the room carefully.

She may be, well, _Loki_, but even she isn't silly enough to crash recklessly into the path of a Viking's temper.

The gasp of surprise that escapes her throat at seeing Godric beside Eric's still form is a hundred percent fake – she even slaps a hand over her mouth for good measure – but the warmth that fills her eyes at the sight is not at all. A tiny part of the Asgardian had worried that her old friend would change his mind about his continued existence and return to the roof, and it is a matter of great joy to see he has not.

(Also, it doesn't hurt that Eric is snuggled up against his maker like an overprotective momma-bear even in his daytime rest. It kind of makes Loki wish the atmosphere was right to request a photo.)

'Godric, are you okay?' She questions, scurrying around the bed to kneel at his side. With obvious reluctance, the Pict vampire pulls his gaze away from his progeny.

'I am well, Loki,' he assures her, eyes heavy with guilt, 'but my childe is not.'

Immediately, the Asgardian stiffens. 'What? What's wrong? Is he hurt?'

'I broke him.' Godric tells her on a wavering breath. 'When he thought me dead... it ripped a hole in him that may never mend.'

'_Oh._' Loki breathes, horror filling her at the realization that she'd given no consideration to Eric in the moments she'd allowed Godric to remain in the morning sunlight. 'I'm so _sorry_.'

The older vampire doesn't notice that the words are not meant for him.

'I've never lost a parent – and Odin and Frigg are immortal, so I likely won't for a long time.' She admits after a long, silent moment. 'But my son was taken from me.'

Fathomless blue eyes flick to her instantly. '...Son?'

'Fenrir (2). His grandparents called him "Little Wolf".' Loki gives what is probably a piss-poor imitation of a smile. 'The legends had to come from somewhere, right?'

'Your brother... _murdered _your son.' Godric half-questions, fitting the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind as he stares at her.

'Yes.' Is the simple answer, delivered calmly and without overt expression (even when Loki's soul still screams in griefafter a thousand years). 'And I was banished from the only home I ever had for taking my revenge.'

It had been the beginning of the 9th century when a much younger and wilder Loki had discovered she was pregnant. Her lover, a young Irish farmer named Eoin had fallen ill with smallpox and died before she had a chance to tell him of their child – theirs hadn't been a great, passionate love, but from the moment she'd noticed her magic cocooning her womb in the unmistakable sign of pregnancy, Loki had _loved _the child she and Eoin had made, and so the young farmer had secured a place in her heart for all of time.

Odin and Frigg, however, had not been pleased. In comparison to the humans of the time, Asgard was positively scandalous in its free-thinking ways, but for the Princess to have a child out of marriage? It was more than a little controversial, and a number of times Loki's mother had tried to persuade her not to keep that child, but she was determined.

(It had been years later that Loki discovered that Frigg had seen the fate of her son in her mirror – seen and done nothing to warn her more than gently attempt to discourage her keeping the baby. It is a truth that means Loki will never again love her Mother fully.)

Fenrir Lokison (not MacEoin – the royal family of Asgard would never acknowledge mortal paternity) had been born quietly in the healing rooms of the palace on Asgard, and young mother and son had been introduced to her family before being swept away to a cottage in hills of Alps like a dirty little secret. Loki hadn't been concerned, too wrapped up in the beautiful new life she'd created and honestly glad that she was no longer considered "eligible" so to avoid marriage.

But she should have been.

Back then, there had been four children of Odin: Týr (3), the eldest by centuries and heir to the throne; Thor, the warrior (and eternally doomed to be Loki's favourite); Loki herself, the only daughter and mage; and Baldr – the baby (4).

Baldr had been doted on all his life, as was usually the case with the youngest child, despite him being only 500 years younger than Loki. In any case, the one thing that must be understood about the youngest prince was this: everybody adored him.

Týr – ever stoic and solemn – would take time from his busy lessons with Odin to sit and speak with him, Thor would spend hours sparring with him, the people of Asgard cooed over his white-gold hair and the court ladies swooned over his impeccable manners and charming smile. Even Loki had loved Baldr but those memories were too stained with blood to see clearly now. Where Týr had politics, Thor had fighting and Loki had sorcery, Baldr's area of expertise was _charisma._

There's nothing wrong with being charming, but what everyone missed about the youngest prince of Asgard was that he was proud – too proud – and when such an all-consuming trait is paired with the ego of a prince and the mindset of a spoiled child, things become twisted.

So when Baldr's dear sister gave birth to the child of a no-name human, he saw it as an affront to his parents, saw it as a waste of the life of an Æsir. And while the scandal of Fenrir began to die down, and Odin and Frigg grew to know their first grandson and fell in love with his shining eyes and easy smile, Baldr nursed resentment deep in his chest.

To him, Fenrir was living proof that the Æsir were not so far above any other creature after all – and an easy fix, he thought, would be to kill him.

To this day, Loki still isn't sure what he had thought would happen after. Did he suppose she would let her son's death go, brush it off? Did Baldr truly think that, upon coming home to the villa she and her son shared and finding Fenrir's mutilated corpse and the distinct signature of her youngest brother's aura, she would not act?

The sad truth that Loki can guess that he did – Baldr had never been punished for the wrongs he caused, let off the hook by all. But who would have guessed that such a little thing as a lenient upbringing would result in the murder of his nephew?

No-one, evidently, because when Loki had marched into the palace and ripped Baldr limb from limb, the general consensus had been that she had gone mad. While the realm had grieved over the death of their beloved prince, the mad princess had been bought before Odin, who had demanded an explanation. Loki had spat at his feet – truthfully a little insane in her grief – and told him that Baldr had deserved it.

Her hasty words has been the key to her downfall, as, after being banished to Midgard she had been followed, chased and hunted by those who saw her as nothing more than a kin-slayer. The legends of her evil were born from the whispers in the ears of mortals, of the ghost stories told around the campfires of men. It hadn't been until the 14th century that the truth behind the events of Baldr's death had been uncovered – but that is another story entirely.

But Godric gulps under the weight of realization, and the Asgardian shifts to lay shamelessly beside him on the large bed. 'I am sorry for you, Loki.'

'I didn't tell you for your sympathy, Godric,' she rests her eyes on Eric, 'I told you because you may have given him that pain, but the feeling of losing someone only to find them still in sight?' Loki lights up at the thought (and ignores the stabbing jealously in her breast). 'I'm sure that pleasure is incomparable.'

'But I cannot stay with him.' The Pict vampire interjects, and her face falls immediately.

'Why not? Eric would show you the world ten times over. He'd take you in and build a home with you anywhere you asked him to.'

Godric sends her a pointed look. 'That is exactly why I can't go with him. I could not ask him to centre his world around me – not any longer.'

Well, Loki can see her old friends point. Eric would surrender everything if it meant keeping his maker happy, but she can't help but wonder...

'What about me?' She whispers excitedly. 'I could show you the way the wind shapes the ice on _Niflheimr _(5)_;_ we could dance with the Fae of _Alfheim; _the dwarves would teach you the answers to questions you haven't ever thought to ask:I could take you anywhere, _bright star._'

For a moment, Godric's eyes glow with such heartfelt longing that she's sure he'll take her offer and they'll sweep away together to get lost in the branches of _Yggdrasill _for the next millennia. But then the spark dulls, and he throws a glance at his resting progeny and it's clear he's made his choice.

Loki's smile is sad around the edges.

'Our time together is over I think, _Princess_,' the Asgardian beams at the long-unused nickname, 'but I would ask you one favour.'

'Oh?'

'You once told me tales of the dwarves, the Dvergr... do you think...?'

'I should hope so, considering I spent most of yesterday in the dwarf realm arranging your stay.' She rolls her green eyes when he throws her a startled glance. 'You know, sometimes I think you hardly know me at all.'

'...My mistake.' Loki titters warmly at her friend's deadpan tone. 'But when can I leave?'

'Well, as soon as you like, really, but...' She points at the Viking. '...write him a note of goodbye, or something?'

Godric wriggles free from the blonde's vice-like grip to do just that, and Loki takes a moment to wonder if she is doing the right thing in letting Godric go gallivanting about another realm. Certainly, the Dvergr had agreed to host him, and they had no overwhelming prejudice towards vampires (there'd even been a fair few dwarves willing to donate blood), but would an adventure elsewhere help her old friend renew his lust for life?

Well, Loki hopes so. After all, the sun on Svartalfheim will have no negative affect on a vampire.

(But she'll let Godric discover _that _for himself.)

In a flash, the Pict vampire is back in front of her with a neatly sealed envelope in one hand a small gym bag clutched in the other, and Loki favours him with a smile before conjuring a rock and presenting it to him grandly. He takes with a raised brow.

'A rock?'

'A rock _from the Dvergr realm_.' She corrects, rolling her eyes. 'It's charmed – just count down from three while holding it and it'll take you to where you need to be.'

'Ah.' Godric gives her a bemused look. 'Thank you, then.'

There is a moment where they simply stare at one another, unsure of how to proceed and then Loki thinks '_fuck it_' and leaps forward to engulf him in a hug, burying her face in his neck. 'I'll miss you, old friend.'

'...I shall miss you as well, Loki.'

All too soon, she draws back and stares at his unchanged features, memorizing the slope of his nose and the angle of his cheekbones. 'Nervous?'

'A little.' The Pict vampire admits. 'But I have thought of leaving one way or another for nearly a hundred years, Loki. Why am I so afraid _now_?'

'Well that's obvious. Our lives are long and full of terror, Godric,' she informs him solemnly, words heavy with the knowledge of four millennia, 'but remember that life is _beautiful _just the same_._'

His only response is the gift of another rare, true smile. Unable to resist, she presses her lips against his in a brief, meaningful show of affection, and when she pulls back she instructs him to "stay a little while longer" and gets comfortable on the bed, clutching one of his ice-cool hands to her chest like a child would a security blanket.

It's when she's half-way to sleep that he questions her again. 'Why did you save me from the sun, Loki?'

Sleepily ignorant of the importance of the question, she snuffles drowsily. 'Eric's your Fenrir, and vice versa.' Eyes still glued shut, Loki smiles. 'An' I always try to save Fen.'

The room is silent, and the half-asleep Asgardian figures Godric must have left until cool lips press against her forehead.

"Take care of him" is the whisper that follows her into her dreams.

xXx

Eric awakens that night alone in his maker's bed save for two pieces of paper sat on the pillow beside his head, and his chest lurches uncomfortably at the realization that Godric is gone again.

But he grabs the top paper, a loose sheet of hotel-headed note paper – he doesn't recognise the neat looping calligraphy handwriting, but it is distinctly feminine.

"_Read the letter" _is all it says, and Eric takes a deep breath and forestalls the urge to panic and search for his maker, ripping open the sealed envelope with preamble. But he stills at the sight of a familiar cramped hand, and takes a deep breath before he reads.

* * *

_The corridor is dark._

_Always._

_So dark that Loki can barely make out the hand in front of her face, so dark she should be taking baby steps – but she runs. Runs so fast her lungs burn, so hard her legs ache, so desperately one would think she is being chased by a creature from the darkest pit of Helheim._

_The carpet at her feet is wet but she doesn't think to consider why._

_But she is running towards something, not away, and there at last is the light at the end of the endless tunnel, the doorway that lights the path ahead. Suddenly, the need to reach it is more urgent, more immediate and the rush of feeling gives her a burst of speed and – _

_She slips – she always, always slips – and skids painfully down the dark floor of the corridor, plummeting directly towards the doorway, but she comes to a stop a metre away from it._

_The light that comes from the room on the other side of the threshold spills into the darkness just enough for Loki to see her hand._

_It's red._

_WhysitredohOdinwhyisitred?!_

_And the metallic smell fills her lungs on her next inhale so swiftly that she gags – and _Oh Odin, _it's blood – and she looks to her feet and they're covered in it, and she looks at her red dress –_

_It used to be white, pure white, like the clouds on a summer day or the wool of a fresh spring lamb_

_- and Loki glances down the corridor (it's not dark anymore) and it's _covered_, blood gathering in sickly little pools here and there and splashing obscenely up the walls and the wail builds up in her throat before she can stop it._

'_Where is he?!' Loki cries, but it is not her voice, she _knows _where he is, but still, 'WHERE IS HE?!'_

_And she scrambles to her feet, stumbles towards the doorway and Loki screams to herself that _no, you don't want to see you dontwanttosee _but she looks._

_The world goes cold. Wind howls through the once cozy household. And Loki's heart breaks (for the first time all over again)._

_Because Loki has found him. Found her baby, found her darling Fen, found her Little Wolf._

_But he is not there._

_Loki wails. Loki sobs. Loki screams and cries and grieves so greatly she feels her heart may give out. And then, only when her son's blood begins to crust and flake on her skin does Loki's soul decide it may give out if it has to process any more sadness._

_That's when Loki rages. And she kisses his head –_

'OhFenI'mSoSorryILoveYouILoveYouFen'

- _and closes his sightless eyes –_

His father's eyes – this she knows from the moment he is born but keeps the secret to herself because the father is long dead by the time his son cries for the first time

-_ and Loki decides it is time to give Asgard (Baldr, Baldr, Baldr) a monster worth fearing._

_But then, as always, the horrors disappear, and Loki is in a field of wheat so huge it stretches as far as the eye can see and then further still. And Loki feels a tiny warm hand grip her own, and she looks down into those eyes – no longer sightless but sparkling with love and mischief and life – and the little boy sweeps her away into the tall stalks, running faster and faster until they're both shrieking with laughter and crying with joy and she calls to him over the sound of wind rushing past:_

'_How much further?!'_

_And his response is light with his happiness and heavy with love –_

_It always is_

_- and sometime Loki lives for this moment, to hear his voice again._

'_Only a little, Mother!'_

'Hey, Vick?'

Loki jerks awake at the question, fighting to keep her from gasping for air. She's had that same dream consistently for the last thousand years, and for a time she'd wake from it and scream and throw-up and be bed-ridden for days. It's gotten easier – or at least easier to hide her reaction – and nowadays she only really has the dream after speaking of Fenrir. After thinking of just how much she misses her son.

And oh, she misses him so desperately it is hard to breathe.

The Asgardian closes her eyes tight to fight of the burgeoning tears there, and it's only when the white noise of her grief fades that she realizes she realizes that she'd been woken by a question.

'Yeah?'

'...Could you turn me into a frog?'

'Why? Do you want to be a frog?' Sookie blanches, and Loki has to laugh despite the lingering shock of her nightmare. Ever since the Asgardian had left Eric dead in bed and they'd met up again earlier in the day for the flight back to Louisiana, the blonde had been full of questions for her, and while she's careful to stick to the pretence that she's an average human mage – something of an oxymoron in itself – it's rather refreshing.

Sookie's insatiable curiosity is a much better reaction than fear or hate, after all. That the blonde has sworn to keep it a secret – "even from Jason!" – is just icing on the metaphorical cake as far as Loki is concerned.

'Oh, Vick,' the telepath digs around in her purse for a moment, 'you left your cell phone in my hotel room.'

'Thanks,' Loki had been wondering where her iPhone had got to – she hasn't had a chance to check messages since they went into the church. But the Asgardian frowns when, immediately after turning the device on, she's bombarded with voicemails and missed calls. 'What the...?'

'What's wrong?' Loki ignores the question, dialling the message service quickly.

'_Vick, shit, call me back._' Her blood runs cold at the sound of Lafayette's panic.

'_V, bitch, you better call me as soon as you get this!_'

'_The town's gone fuckin' crazy, I could use some'a your mumbo jumbo shit.'_

'Shit.' She curses. In the midst of all the drama in Dallas, she'd forgotten that she'd left a fucking _maenad _in Bon Temps – something that has clearly come back to bite her on the ass. Loki glances at a frowning Sookie. 'Have you checked your phone?'

The part-fae hurries to turn on her little Nokia, and gasps. 'Oh my stars, I have a thousand messages!'

Jason, snoozing in the back seat of the cab, jerks awake at his sister's exclamation. 'Whassup?'

'Missed calls from Tara, Sam, Jessica...' Sookie frets, bringing her phone up to her ear and pulling it away after a moment. 'And no-one's answering!'

'Calm down, sis,' Jason yawns, pointing out the windshield, 'we're nearly there.'

Sure enough, it's only five minutes before the cab meanders into Bon Temps – but it's not the town they left behind. The main road is desolate, full of trash and dotted with several cars that almost look like they've crashed. The buildings are covered in crude graffiti and toilet paper, and, somewhere off in the distance, a security alarm wails.

'Woah.' Loki comments. It's like a scene from a horror movie – or the aftermath of a serious party.

'What the hell?' Jason explains, frowning out the window at his right. 'Look at this guy!'

A beefy bald guy and a blonde woman with crimped hair stumble down the sidewalk, pulling and batting at each other. They giggle, and stumble in front onto the front of the car with a dull thump.

'T-They just ran in front of me!' The driver explains, shaky with disbelief, but Loki isn't listening as she hops straight out of the passenger door and rushing around to check on them. Sookie and Jason follow at her heels.

'Are you all right?' The telepath asks, but the group suck in sharp breathes when they look up to reveal pitch black eyes. It's eerie, Loki thinks, but she's more concerned with the stench of dark, chaotic power that clings to them.

'What the hell's wrong with your eyes?' Jason stammers, and the Asgardian reaches forward to touch the possessed woman's arm and attempt to analyse the source of the change.

It's an old, dark power, she can tell immediately, and it's altering to the mind of humans... no, it's releasing the mind of humans...? Her brows furrow in consternation, but the woman tugs out of her grasp.

'Get offa me! We gotta go.'

'Yeah.' The black-eyed man grunts, pulling her away and down the abandoned road. Loki and Sookie share a look, and Jason calls out to them.

'Wait, wait, where you going?'

'We gotta find Sam!' She calls back. 'It's almost time, man.'

Loki purses her lips, and turns to the Stackhouse sibling's. '_Shit._'

'We better get to Bill's.' The telepath says, glancing about the abandoned centre of her hometown worriedly. For once, Loki couldn't agree more – it's probably safer for Sookie to stay with her boyfriend, considering a maenad's propensity to slaughter supes. As for herself?

'Drop me at my house.' She instructs the shaken driver, and ignores the wide-eyed looks she is thrown.

She supposes that, at the very least, the ever-present drama in this little town keeps her mind of the darker secrets buried in her subconscious.

* * *

Author's Note: Wow, long chapter. I was so nervous about posting this one – there are a lot of big revelations here, so feedback would be awesome. And gee, of course I didn't kill Godric! _But _he is away, so you'll see how the plot progresses without him around. Once again, I was blown away with the reviews from the last chapter, so thank-you to everyone who is still with me!

(1) In Mythology, Loki is, indeed, sometimes called the god of fire.

(2) The myths about Fenrir (sometimes called Fenrisúlfr, Hróðvitnir or Vánagandr) is really awful. According to the Prose Edda (a collection of seven manuscripts that detail Norse mythology), Fenrir was the child of Loki and a female frost giant, and a monstrous wolf. In mythology, when Odin discovered that Loki had had children (he had three), he summoned them and banished two of them. But Fenrir was bound to a rock, doomed to be chained until the end of the world. OFC!Loki's story is very different, obviously, but the fact that Fenrir's nickname is "little wolf" was inspired by the myths.

(3) Týr is the god associated with law and heroism in the Norse pantheon, and is sometimes referred to as Odin's son. In this fic, he is the eldest son of Odin and Frigg, and heir to the throne.

(4) Baldr (also called Balder or Baldur) is the second son of Odin according to the Prose Edda, and by all accounts the most loved – 'the wisest of the Æsir, and the fairest-spoken and most gracious'. His death (orchestrated by Loki even in mythology) is sometimes said to be the marker of the beginning of the end of the world. In this fic, Baldr is the youngest of Asgard's royal family, but equally as beloved.

(5) _Niflheimr _is the Old Norse name for Niflheim; the world of ice, and one of the Nine Realms.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humour/Romance/Drama/Supernatural

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 5, 627

Summary: Loki Odindóttir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

WARNING: This chapter contains mention of maenad mind-fuckery.

* * *

Chapter Twelve.

The Plantation house had been left mercifully un-vandalized, and Loki had bounded inside (after promising to call Sookie soon) with her bag of luggage. Pulling on some jeans – much better suited for fighting than a skirt – and grabbing a book on Greek Mythology, she snatched her car keys up from the kitchen table and practically vaulted into her Mustang.

Now, Loki pulls up in Lafayette's driveway with a screech of tires over asphalt. It's only a matter of moments before her friend is stepping out onto his porch, shot-gun in hand – the fry-cook relaxes visibly at seeing her.

'Lafayette!' She bounds over, wrapping him into a brief, warm embrace.

'Shit, hooka,' he breathes, pulling back to look her in the eye, 'I ain't never been so happy to see a woman before.'

The crack makes her grin. 'Too much information, Lala.'

'Lafayette!' The call breaks up the moment of light-heartedness, and the pair turn to see Tara's mother stumbling over. It's the first time Loki's ever seen Mrs. Thornton sober, but the woman looks ready to collapse in exhaustion and stress. 'Who's 'dat?'

Lafayette rolls his eyes – he's introduced the two women at least twice before – but he throws a muscled arm over Loki's shoulder. 'Dis the only bitch who has a hope in hell of fixing this shit-storm.'

It's a little heart-warming for someone to have so much faith in her, but still: 'Why don't you tell me what the fuck is actually happening first.'

Sat on the rickety lawn chairs of the porch, Lafayette tells her about Maryann: about the bruises that Tara had come into _Merlotte's _covered in and her crazy party lifestyle; about how, when he and Lettie Mae had gone to confront her, Tara and her boyfriend's eyes had turned black.

'She keeps _chantin_' some shit – sounds like Greek or something – and she talks 'bout some God who'll come and kill us all.' Lafayette tells her looking uneasy at the admission.

'It's my fault,' Lettie Mae interjects, teary-eyed, 'if I hadn't left such a hole in this girl, maybe whatever's in there wouldn't have crawled in.'

On the whole, people like Tara who have stubborn, angry dispositions are actually harder to manipulate with magic – but Loki doesn't voice the thought. 'Can I see her?'

Lafayette nods warily, leading her into the living room of his bungalow where Tara is tied to a chair in the centre of the room. The bartender is tense, jaw clenched and eyes the colour of tar. Loki moves over slowly and kneels before her, placing her hands on the woman's temples.

'Tara, can you hear me?'

'Fuck you, you fuckin' cunt. Get your bitch hands off'fa me.' The words tumble out in a rush – Loki ignores the profanity, narrowing her eyes in concentration. The weight on Tara's consciousness is similar to that which will hang off a glamoured human, suffocating the personality under the pressure to do as ordered. But it's much more than that, too – it's such a complete thrall that the aspects that make her "Tara" are completely suppressed.

'I can fix it,' Loki announces evenly, ignoring Lettie Mae's emphatic "thank you, Jesus", 'but it'll take a while. And…' She wavers, eyes flicking between aunt and nephew. 'You can't tell anyone that I had a part in this.'

'As long as my cousin comes back you can take over the fuckin' _house_.' Lafayette tells her, his relief palpable in his voice. His voice softens as he continues. 'And we won't tell no-one, a'aight?'

The black-haired woman breathes out a sigh of relief.

But Tara, seemingly at least aware enough to protest, thrashes in her seat. Only when the Asgardian guides their foreheads together with a firm hand does she still, and Loki tumbles into Tara's mind.

It's so dark that, for a moment, Loki thinks she's gone blind, but then she registers the echoing chant ringing about the void like a church organ. She shivers at the haunting sound, but settles cross-legged in the darkness. It would be simple to simply get rid of the foreign influence – a matter of merely purging the mind with Loki's magic – but that would surely erase the memories of the possession entirely. Lafayette had described the black-outs that people all over town had been complaining of for the past few days, and the way Loki saw it Tara at least deserved to know what she had been doing with herself under the thrall.

So the Asgardian builds her power in her chest, filling herself with magic until the air around her lights up and chases back the shadows in Tara's head. Inch by reluctant inch Loki expands the sphere of magic, forcing everything "Maryann" to retreat. It's a long and careful process – if she falters just once the chaos will flood back in like water pushing through a broken dam – but Loki remains steadfast, and when the last of the darkness is pushed out she dismisses her magic and finds herself sitting on the floor of a room so glaringly white it burns to look at.

Tara is huddled in the corner, naked and shaking as she presses her forehead to her bent knees, and the bartender glances up shakily. 'Vick?'

'It's okay, Tara,' she assures gently, 'you can rest now.'

Loki blinks back into the waking world and tumbles back onto her backside, a little dizzy after the prolonged expenditure of power. Lettie Mae and Lafayette both leap to their feet, obviously anxious, and the Asgardian notes that sunlight is no longer streaming through the windows.

'She's fine,' she tells them, a little out of breath, 'just let her sleep awhile – it'll give her mind time to organise itself.'

Tara's mother begins to cry softly, murmuring a prayer between gasps, and Lafayette bounds over to scoop her into a hug – despite her fatigue, Loki laughs at being lifted and spun like a doll. 'Thanks, princess.'

'Anytime, Lala.' She takes a moment to relish in the comfort of the hug, because the past five days have been a bit of a rollercoaster, but by the time her friend sets her back on her feet she is back to her old self. 'Did I miss anything?'

'Sook called,' he informs her, moving towards the kitchen and wordlessly pouring her a glass of water, 'she an' her boyfriend are comin' over to see Tara.'

'Right.' _No doubt the silly fairy has gotten herself into some sort of trouble in the time we've been apart_ – the thought can't be called cynical when it's so realistic.

Loki collapses onto Lafayette's couch, watching as the fry-cook unties his cousin from her bonds and gently carries her to his bedroom to lie down. Through the beaded curtain that separates the room from the lounge, she can see her friend and Lettie Mae tucking the bartender tenderly under the quilt.

'What's the girl's name?' Mrs. Thornton's voice carries clear as day through the little house. 'I should pray for her.'

'Victoria Storm. But I don't think she Christian.'

Loki wants to giggle at the awkward silence that rings through the house at the declaration. 'Oh.' Lettie Mae hesitates. 'Then I'll pray for her immortal soul.'

When Lafayette rejoins her in the living room, the pair share supremely bemused looks.

It's an hour to sunrise when there is a knock on the door, and Loki's head snaps round sharply, jumping to her feet with such speed that it makes Lafayette freeze in his step towards it.

'That's not Sookie.' She informs him gravely, and he pales dramatically. Very carefully, the Asgardian approaches the door with her friend at her back, ready to lash out against a possible attack. The knock sounds again and she immediately snaps the door wide open... but her blank mask falls into a frown aimed at the plain-Jane brunette standing before her.

The girl offers her a peppy grin. 'Hey. How's it going?'

It's not an exaggeration to say that Loki is rather baffled by the casual greeting – _did the girl not notice that the whole town is post-Apocalyptic? _– but, behind her, the fry-cook huffs in exasperation.

'Never been better in my whole goddamn life.' He answers dryly. 'Come back later.' But when he goes to slam the door, she halts it with a palm – Loki's eyebrows shoot up.

'There's no such thing as later during finals week. Calc so blows.'

'What the fuck?' Is the Asgardian's contribution. Shoulder's tense, Lafayette hustles the two of them out onto the porch before rounding on the teenager with his arms crossed sternly.

'I ain't selling tonight, Cream Cheese. Okay?'

'Selling?' A cold feeling settles in Loki's gut.

'Come on,' "Cream Cheese" whines, ignoring the byplay completely, 'I'll pay extra.'

'You ain't hearing me.' He says, aggravated, and the girl scowls heavily.

'Well, I ain't leaving till I get the V.'

Her jaw locks before she can grind her teeth in rage, but Bill's sudden appearance behind the girl makes both humans on the porch jolt in shock. The brunette stares at the vampire's fangs in utter terror, and he puts on a show of looking as menacing as possible.

'Oh, you _are_ leaving.'

She leaves running. And Bill turns his steely gaze on Lafayette before taking a threatening step closer – Loki brings a hand to the vampire's chest.

'I suggest you step back, Mr. Compton.' He sneers down at her, unmoving, and after a moment she takes it as an invitation to _make _him move. An average human being trying such a thing wouldn't even make him falter, but Loki is not average (or human at all) so he stumbles back a few feet.

'This is vampire business, _Mage_.' Well, Mr. Compton is very clear in his opinion of her after certain revelations, at least. It's a bit of a surprise that a 200-year-old vampire even knows of mortal mages considering how rare they are, but he is clearly not as learned as he thinks he is.

Vampires are wary of mages for good reason.

But Lafayette buts in before it can descend into an episode of Asshole Smackdown™ - Vampire Edition. 'Cool your jets. Talk to your boy, Eric. He the one got me pushing the shit.'

'_What?' _Vampire and Asgardian snarl in perfect unison, pinning the fry-cook in place with their eyes – one pair angry, the other shocked. Loki's head reels in surprise, because a Sheriff selling V? _That _is a big no-no in the vamp community. But then Loki shakes her head because why the fuck is she worrying about _Eric _when he is making her friend sell drugs – the reason he locked Lafayette in a basement for two weeks. Just because they had some sort of weird connection over the Viking's maker doesn't mean that she'll just overlook all his wrong-doings, and this must be some sort of side-affect of their unfortunate blood-bond, and...

'Vick!'

...Loki is steamrolled by a tiny blonde telepath. Huh. She really should pay more attention to her surroundings. 'Hey, Sook.'

'Where's Tara? Is she okay? Are _you _okay?' Oblivious to the previous tension in the air, the part-fae babbles on. 'Maryann is the thing that attacked me before! And the bitch took over my house, and she's the one behind this whole mess, and Bill tried to bite her but it just made him sick. Hey, Lafayette!'

The fry-cook looks bemusedly down at his life-long friend. 'Hey Sook. You can come on in.'

The blonde bustles into Lafayette's house, still rapidly firing questions this way and that, but Loki and Bill remain on the porch, caught in a deadlock stare.

'I don't like you.' She informs him after a long moment, and he sniffs haughtily.

'The sentiment is mutual.'

'And if you ever threaten my friend again I will drag you into the midday sun.'

'Fine. But I will get to the bottom of why he is sellin' V.'

'Fine. Man, Sookie could do so much better than _you_.'

'And you and Eric deserve each other.' Is the venomous reply.

'...Touché.'

And thus, a reluctant, unspoken truce is born. They both relax marginally.

'Maryann is a maenad.' Loki figures it's best to just throw it out there (especially when with someone who, she suspects, has a rather extensive knowledge of the supernatural) and Bill stiffens. She can see him processing her words, weighing them, and the truth lights a fire in his eyes.

'A _maenad._' He breathes, obviously not have even considered it. 'Well...'

'Yeah,' the Asgardian smirks minutely, 'no wonder you look like shit. Can't imagine the bitch was tasty.'

_And the death-glare has returned._ But Bill shakes off his annoyance with all the mastery of a politician. 'I will need to speak with the Queen about it.'

Yuck. Loki has heard nothing altogether kind about Sophie-Anne. But she merely quirks a brow and turns to go inside the house. 'Well, good luck with that.'

Just as she steps over the threshold Tara's voice rings out from the bedroom, and Loki hums in anticipation. This whole "settling down" malarkey is more exciting than the last decade of her life put together, and she can't say she doesn't enjoy it.

'She okay?' Loki questions a tired-looking Lafayette as he joins her on the porch. Tara had woken from her magic induced slumber just after Bill had left to see Sophie-Anne, and after some mild hysteria in the revelation of her memories, had started freaking out because her boyfriend was still under Maryann's control. It's taking the combined efforts of Sookie, Lafayette and Lettie Mae to stop the bartender from running straight back into the maenad's hands, and, as someone who barely knows Tara, the Asgardian has taken to hiding out on the front porch to avoid interfering.

'She the same.' Lafayette draws a cigarette from behind his ear and lights it, clearly agitated by the idea of his cousin going back into danger so willingly. 'Wants to go back to the man who beats her.'

'To be fair, I'm pretty sure he did that when under Maryann's thrall.' Loki comments, missing the look her friend shoots her in response. Then, after a moment, she straightens from her position leant against the house. 'I think I'm gonna go.'

'What the fuck?' The fry-cook blurts, tossing the butt aside. 'Why?'

'_Lafayette,_' she keeps her tone soothing, 'I'm the only person in this town who has a leg-up on Maryann – I've never even met her – and we know she's looking for Sam.'

'Well, maybe he left town like he was plannin'.' He pushes stubbornly. Grabbing her keys from the rickety lawn table, Loki scoffs.

'He wouldn't – Bon Temps is his home; y'all are his _family_. No way would he leave you to deal with this mess by himself.' Lafayette's face softens at the sentiment, at the Asgardian knows he see's where she's coming from, so she reaches up to press a kiss to the apple of his cheek. 'I don't want him to think he's alone in this, Lala – but I'll see you again before this is over.'

Loki bounds towards her car, but halts at her friends voice. 'We're gonna beat this thing, right?'

'Course we are,' she calls without looking at him as the engine starts with a purr, 'this is my home too, and I'm not gonna let her take it!'

The Mustang spins out of the drive in a cloud of dust from the dirt road, and Loki allows herself to glance back at her friend – her _best _friend – just once before her brain shifts gears. It has been a long, long time since she has had such a large circle of people to care about, and protecting them all is not easy, but she knows that she has to try.

_This is home, now. _(It's been a long, long time since she's had one of those either.) Serial killers and hate crime are the authority of the humans – maenads and vampires and telepaths? This is what Loki knows.

And as her car navigates the familiar roads of Bon Temps, she knows where she needs to go – even if she hadn't felt the trace of her own magic from the bracelet she'd gifted to Sam tugging her in the right direction – because of _course _he's at _Merlotte's. _Her boss, if nothing else, tends to be a creature of habit.

xXx

The bar is looking a little worse for wear, trash littering the otherwise empty parking lot and one or two signs of damage to the exterior of the building. Loki hopes that nothing is permanently broken – because she really does enjoy working here – but from the corner of her eye she spots Jason's distinctive truck parked in the bushes and knows that the older Stackhouse will have at least protected Sam himself.

'Seriously?' Jason's voice greets her as she steps silently into _Merlotte's, _full of interest. 'You can become any animal anytime?'

_Well, it seems the dog is out of the bag on that one. _

'Yeah, as long as I've imprinted on it.' Sam responds nervously, but the blonde man huffs in excitement.

'That is fuckin' cool, man.'

'Yeah, well, as cool as that may be,' Andy Bellefleur cuts in gruffly – and seriously, when did he get involved? For the moment, Loki shrugs it off as a question for another time and waits for someone to notice her presence in the bar. 'We still got a maenad we gotta deal with before it takes our wholes town out.'

'Listen, you can't deal with it.' Sam tells them impatiently. 'All right, your best bet's to leave while you still can.'

'Sam's right.' The Asgardian cuts in, ignoring the way all three of them jump into defensive positions and spin to face her, wide-eyed. 'You should head to Lafayette's – that's where Sookie and Tara and her mother are hiding out.'

'Vick, what the fuck?'

'When the hell did you get here?'

Jason's the one who recovers first, though, jutting his chin out stubbornly. 'I ain't just hidin'. Shouldn't we think about getting the law involved?'

Andy scowls at the younger man. 'I am involved.'

'Well, I meant Sheriff Dearborne, Kenya, that other guy, the squirrelly one.'

'Sheriff's station was wide open and empty.' The alcoholic cop informs them. '_They_ ain't gonna help.'

'Seriously,' Loki moves to stand at her boss's side, 'you guys should lay low.'

'No, we have got to _be_ the law.' The Asgardian rolls her eyes. 'Guys, I read a book about this. This is Armageddon. This is the Oral History of the Zombie War. We need weapons, lots of them.'

'This is _not _Armageddon.'

'Vick's right.' Sam nods his head – _finally! Someone's talking sense! _'I hate to break it to you, but guns aren't gonna do jack shit to Maryann. And you can't shoot anybody else – these are our friends, this is our town.'

'Well, sometimes you need to destroy somethin' to save it.' Jason tells them, and Loki starts a little because that is almost... wise. 'That's in the Bible. Or the Constitution.' And he ruined it. Jason Stackhouse is a mess of highs and lows in her eyes – it's dizzying.

They all tense when there is an audible whisper outside, and they snap about to see the retreating forms of two children running away from one of the frosted windows of the bar. Sam bolts off after them, and Andy moves to grab his gun from his holster, but she halts him with a hand on his arm.

'It's just Arlene's kids.' Loki tells him, and he relaxes marginally, then squints at her.

'Who are you, again?'

Jason answers before she can, absentmindedly checking around the bar for weapons. 'Vick's cool. Was in Dallas with me an' Sook.' The blonde grabs a nail-gun from the bar-top, jerking his head towards the door. 'Come on, Andy, we gotta move.'

'We are?' Andy interjects.

'We gotta raid the Sheriff's office.'

'Stackhouse, you've got to think about this,' the Asgardian steps closer with a frown, 'Maryann is easily ten-thousand years old. This is... way beyond you.' She is marginally satisfied when Andy blanches a little at the estimate, but Jason's face is fixed with determination.

'I can't just do nothin',' he declares, 'I gotta _try_.'

If it were anyone else, Loki would likely roll her eyes and declare him a complete fool – but a glance into his brain reveals a different truth. He feels guilty for joining the Fellowship (there is a flicker of Luke McDonalds face that sends churns through Loki's own gut); feels like he has done nothing but screw up recently. This fight – saving Bon Temps – is Jason's atonement, and because she respects that (because she understands guilt better than any other emotion) she backs down.

'Be _careful._' Is her input on the matter, and both men nod at her before racing out the doors of the bar, and Loki only has a second or two to herself before Sam and the children bustle back in and the bar-owner hustles them into a booth.

'Right kids,' Sam announces with a forced calm smile, 'I'm gonna make y'all some lunch – behave for Ms. Storm, ya hear?' He beckons the Asgardian over. 'She works with your momma. Vick,' he leans closer to add a quiet: 'just watch 'em while I sort of some food.'

Uneasily, Loki seats herself opposite the children with a stiff nod. Despite hearing a lot about them from Arlene, she has never met Coby and Lisa before – in fact, she kind of goes out of her way to avoid young kids these days.

But the Asgardian pushes down the boiling memories of Fenrir and favours them with a wavering smile. The children are admittedly cute, still gangly in their youth and looking ruffled in the adorably messy way only kids can be. But little-freckled Lisa is trembling softly in her hunger, and Coby looks ready to throw himself over his sister to protect her at any moment – acting cold now will only frighten them more.

'Hey.' Loki gives a lame little wave. 'I'm Victoria – you must be Coby and Lisa.'

The boy narrows his eyes. 'How'd you know our names?' There is suspicion on his young face, but Loki can hardly blame him for it, so she doesn't even blink.

'Oh, Arlene never stops talking about you guys,' they exchange surprised looks she pretends not to see, 'and your Aunt Sookie was gushing about all the times you spent with her.'

'You sure are pretty, Ms. Victoria.' Lisa pipes up softly and the tiny smile on the girls face melts any of Loki's remaining wariness into a genuine grin.

'Oh, well, thank you, Lisa. You're beautiful yourself – just like your mother.' She winks at the freckled girl, before reaching out a hand with an exaggerated look of concentration and brushing it gently through riotous red curls. With a tiny surge of magic, Loki conjures a daisy into her fingers and produces it with a giggle. 'Look – even this flower seems to be jealous of your lovely face, with the way it was clinging to you.'

The look of delight and awe on the children's faces is immensely satisfying. Before Fenrir was born and when Loki was in the youth of her first millennia (comparatively a young teenager), she would be hounded around Asgard by younger Aesir of noble and peasant birth alike, all of them begging for their Princess to show them some magic. Unlike their parents and most of their elders, the children of Asgard saw her power as something truly wondrous rather than a potential weapon – the memory of their bright little faces and screaming giggles is kept in a fragile, guarded corner of Loki's heart, but it's a truly happy recollection.

It's only when a wide-eyed Cody speaks up that she shakes free of nostalgia. 'How'd you do that?'

'Do what?' Loki gives the boy an innocent wink. 'Oh, it seems there's something in your hair too, young man.' She reaches behind his ear and produces a shiny new quarter which she presses into a gaping Coby's hand. 'I reckon you could hold onto this.'

'Are there any_ more _flowers in my hair, Ms. Victoria?' Lisa leans forward, shyness temporarily forgotten in the face of magic tricks.

'Hm, no more flowers, but, what's this?' Loki leans closer in mock-solemnity, tapping the girl's nose gently with a finger and abruptly clasping both hands before her as if holding something precious. She peeks between them, looking up at Coby and Lisa with wide-eyed excitement. 'It seems something was hiding in your freckles.'

'_In _her freckles? What?'

'What was it?'

Rather than tell them, the Asgardian merely opens her hands, and her avid audience "ooh" and "ahh" excitedly as a collection of white and brown-speckled butterflies take off from her palm, flying languid paths through the air around the booth. It's a very basic illusion, really, but both kids look to her once the insects have all flown out the window as though she has just proven the existence of Santa Claus. But a slight intake of breath makes her turn and peer at her boss, who is looking a little pole-axed.

'Hey, Sam.' She greets, and her casual tone is taken as the queue it is meant to be as he shakes off his curiosity over the blatant display of magic and plops two sandwiches before the kids and joining her on the bench.

'Here you go.' Coby and Lisa dig in ravenously – Sam smiles at the sight. 'And more where that came from.'

As they eat, the two adults converse in rapid whispers. The shifter asks about Dallas; he inquires after Tara and Sookie; he laments over Jason and Andy's decision to fight. Loki listens intently and answers most questions fired her way concisely. Sam has just asked where (and _why_) Bill has gone when Lisa speaks up.

'What's wrong with our mama?'

Loki and Sam share an uncertain look – they both know that Arlene is possessed, but they are _not _explaining that. 'I think she's sick.' Sam says gently.

'Is she blind?'

'Well, she might be sometimes,' Loki's lips quirk at the double-meaning in his words, 'but not always.'

'...Is she gonna die?'

'No. Not anytime soon.' The bar-owner shifts a little uncomfortably in the face of a child's bluntness. 'Now listen, has she… has she been sick in front of you a lot?'

The freckled little girl contemplates this with a frown. 'She doesn't seem sick.'

'She seems _crazy_.' Coby interjects – they both nod.

'_Is_ she crazy?'

'Everybody gets a little crazy every now and then.' Is Sam's rejoinder and the Asgardian can't help but admire his calm, carefully worded manner of speaking to both children. It reminds her a little of how Thor treats Astrid – as though she is entirely his equal despite being so young.

'She's always kissin' Terry and doin' other gross stuff when her eyes get weird.' Lisa continues with an adorable wrinkle of her nose.

'Can we get her a doctor?'

'Or someone to make her like she used to be?'

'Like a vampire.' Coby announces, excited at the very thought of the un-dead. 'I bet a vampire would know what to do.'

'Where's vampire Bill?'

'Mr. Compton is out looking for a way to fix everybody, actually,' Loki answers, 'but I'm not sure when he'll be back.' The last is directed at Sam, who grimaces. They both know that time is of the essence if they don't want the whole town going up in smoke.

Coby and Lisa fall silent, apparently sensing that "vampire Bill" may not be their saviour. The blonde boy looks between the adults with a furrowed brow. 'Don't you know any other vampires?'

Something lights behind Sam's eyes as realization overcomes him, and a peek into his head (_broad shoulders, blonde hair, a familiar pale face and eye the colour of the ocean_) makes Loki shove her boss from the booth and drag him out of earshot of the curious children.

'Really?' She asks seriously. 'You really wanna go to _Eric _for help?'

Sam sighs deeply, looking to the floor and away from her frank stare. 'I don't want to,' he tells her firmly, 'but what other choice do we have?'

The Asgardian doesn't want to admit out loud that he may have a point. Even in all her years of living on Midgard, Loki has never _killed _a maenad; she's never even heard of anyone doing so. Mythology says that they can't die at all until they have successfully summoned Dionysus (or Bacchus, or Satan, or whatever you'd like to call the damn thing) and as something as an authority on "gods", Loki can't say she's ever encountered any evidence of such a deity existing. As far as she can tell, a maenad is another perfect example of faith becoming power, but whether or not the "raving ones" are actually fuelled by an actual godlike being? Loki doubts it.

(There is a definite irony in the fact that Loki doesn't believe in gods, she knows, but she is all too aware of how easily something "other" can be classified as something "godly". And the only way her own prayers got answered were through her own actions.)

The fact is that Loki has spent the majority of her time on Midgard since her banishment playing the part of a human, a mortal mage or a complete nonentity (1), and therefore had very few opportunities to get into duels with relics of Ancient Greece. In contrast, vampires – especially the older ones – would have likely come into contact with a maenad at some point and been fully capable of fighting one all out, so the chance that there is a vampire somewhere that knows how to kill one is high. Distantly, Loki wonders whether Godric would know – but she can hardly intrude on his fresh start just to ask.

_If you go to see the Viking_, the voice of reason in her head points out, _you can find out why Lafayette is selling V. _The thought is enough to make her cave and give Sam a nod of approval, but Eric's blood itches under her skin, stirring at the impending visit with the vampire. The Fates seem to just keep throwing her into the path of the Sheriff of Area 5 – Loki doesn't know how to feel about it.

* * *

Sam, Coby and Lisa are almost hilariously out of place sitting on the black leather chairs inside of a closed _Fangtasia_, watching Ginger scurry about the room nervously. Truthfully, Loki probably stands out just as badly in her casual jeans-and-tee outfit, but she learned long ago that "fitting in" wasn't as much about appearance as it is about confidence – so the Asgardian perches on a bar stall as though she sits there every night and keeps a sharp eye on the children.

'Hello, doll.' A voice from her left purrs, and Loki turns to shoot the vampire a grin.

'Hey, Pam,' she studies the permanently polished vampire, quirking a brow at the latex-dress/corset combo that she's squeezed into, 'you look... nice?'

'Save it,' Pam commands with an unnecessary sigh, brushing off the insincere compliment and giving her own outfit a disdainful glance, 'if only the vermin appreciated couture.'

Loki laughs at the muttered comment. 'Well, if it makes you feel any better, you can certainly pull off "dominatrix".'

'Oh, you have _no _idea.' The vampire shoots her a smouldering, suggestive look that has the Asgardian grinning a little naughtily. Pam's painted lips twitch upwards, but when she catches sight of Sam, her face falls completely. 'Oh, you bought a guard dog. Lovely.'

'I don't need a guard dog.'

'Ah, that's right Ms. _Mage_.' Loki is suddenly being surveyed with a new degree of interest. 'You're the first I've met.'

'Ah, well, always happy to pop the mage cherry,' Pam snorts at the dry rebuttal, 'I'll have to show off to you sometime.'

'Oh, please do.' The bouncer drawls, drawing closer. 'Your place or mine?'

'Mine.' She fires back, completely at ease with the sexual banter and a little amused that Pam is trying so hard to make her uncomfortable. 'We could have a sleepover.'

'Doll, you shouldn't tempt me so,' Pam sighs in faux-heartbreak, 'we both you're claimed now.'

_Eugh. Don't remind me_. The Asgardian hides her annoyance at being classified as belonging to anyone expertly. 'That doesn't mean we can't talk – there's a killer vintage store in Monroe that has more Chanel than a 50's Starlette's wardrobe.'

'Interesting proposition. But why?'

'Maybe I crave your wonderful company and warm attitude?' Pam's raised eyebrow screams "yeah, right", and Loki cuts the bullshit. 'I am not pleased with your maker.'

'Oh?'

'Yes. And I thought to myself "what's the one thing a man dreads?" and the answer was obvious. So,' Loki winks at the vampire conspiratorially, 'we have to become the very best of friends, dear Pam.'

She can see the bouncer processing this, weighing the pros and cons carefully, and when a fierce smirk overcomes her lips Loki knows she has won. Obviously, the prospect of irritating her maker is too good to pass up. 'Very well. May I ask why we are punishing my dear maker?'

'You can _ask_.'

'So angry and yet refusing to admit why, huh?' Pam quirks a brow.

'My dearest Pam: isn't that a woman's prerogative?'

The look that Eric's progeny throws her is borderline approving – it's probably the highest form of flattery she'll ever receive from Pam. They share a conspiratorial smirk, and the doors to the club comes open, Pam's eyes light with intrigue.

'Seems my Master has arrived,' she pulls Loki to her feet, 'let's go see about getting rid of the dog – he's stinking up the place.'

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, all! Sorry this chapter's a little late – I had a busy day yesterday. No Eric/Loki interaction in this one – sorry to all those that requested more – but the stuff in this one is all pretty important to plot. Also, it's one of my favourite chapters, so I hope everyone enjoyed. Once again, I was blown away by the overwhelmingly positive feedback I've been getting on this fic, and please keep reading and reviewing. Feel free to PM me if there are any questions about terminology.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Title: Ever After

Category: True Blood

Genre: Humour/Romance/Drama/Supernatural

Ship: Eric Northman/OFC

Rating: M

Word Count: 5, 248

Summary: Loki Odindóttir moves to Bon Temps for a bit of peace and quiet. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC (and I barely own her).

WARNING: This chapter contains mention of maenad mind-fuckery.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen.

Since coming back from Dallas (since last seeing _Godric_) Eric has been functioning at half capacity, drifting in and out of his normal routine and desperately trying to refocus. His maker's letter of farewell had made it clear that he wished to keep up the pretence of being truly dead in order to avoid being sought out, and the various condolences stung the part of him that screamed of what-could-have-been. Only three people on Earth know the truth: Eric, Pam (because it is nigh impossible to keep secrets from her) and Victoria Storm.

The mage is a burning presence at the edge of Eric's mind, sometimes happy and often amused but always consistently sad – the melancholia had taken a while for the Viking to pinpoint, but once he'd recognised it Eric had been surprised. Victoria has never struck him as someone who was _grieving_, but the last line of Godric's letter rings around his head: _She is more than you know. _

Now, as he walks into _Fangtasia _and is greeted with the unexpected sight of the woman in question sitting with a shape-shifter and two human children, the thrum of nostalgic pain trills through the bond as she leans close to whisper something to the red-headed girl, and Eric's eyes narrow. Something to think on later, he decides, and approaches the odd group.

'Merlotte,' he greets cooly, dropping into the chair across from him, 'I'm afraid two of your companions are very much underage to be here.'

'Er – yeah, sorry.' The shifter shifts uncomfortably at the Viking's unexpected appearance, shooting Victoria a look. 'Your waitress let us in. We need help.'

'Oh?' It seems Victoria will soon be in his debt once again – the idea perks the devious side of the Sheriff, but as though hearing the thought she leans forward to speak.

'There is a maenad in Bon Temps,' she tells them without aplomb, face blank and emotions raging through the bond.

'A maenad?' Pam asks, intrigued. With a sigh, Victoria reaches behind her to pull an old, leather-bound book from the waistband of her jeans and flicks through the pages idly.

'_In Greek mythology_,' she reads aloud, '_maenads were the female followers of Dionysus, the most significant members of the Thiasus, the god's retinue. Maenads travel alone usually through locations, seeking tribute to her god, Dionysus. If tribute is not given, she will leave the location in utter chaos by leaving all inhabitants under their influence which consists of uncontrolled sexual behavior, loss of senses and complete intoxication. They own a set of talons when they are in their "frenzy" state where the talons possess a special poison which kills anything if clawed. Their name literally translates as "raving ones". In this state, they would have complete control over the human species where they would make them lose all self-control, begin shouting excitedly, engage in uncontrolled sexual behaviour and ritualistically hunt down and tear supernatural creatures to pieces, devouring the raw flesh or heart. During these rites, the maenads would weave ivy-wreaths around their heads or wear a bull helmet in honour of their god. _(1)'

Eric's interest is peaked, but the shifter gives the woman a wide-eyed look. 'Where did you get an encyclopaedia of supes?'

'It's not an encyclopaedia,' the mage huffs, snapping the book shut and waving it expressively, 'it's a book on Greek mythology. And it says nothing about how one would go about _killing _a maenad.' Emerald eyes pin Eric in place as they land on him. 'Which is why we're here.'

The Viking quirks a brow at the demanding tone. 'Why should I help you?'

'I'm fairly certain it wouldn't look good if your entire Area was overrun with chaos, _Sheriff_.' Victoria makes a good point, but her attitude leaves much to be desired and he almost says so before Sam cuts in.

'We need help.' He gives the mage a quelling look. 'And hopefully someday I might be able to give you somethin' you need.'

'Oh?' Eric shoots Victoria a devious smirk. 'And will _you _give me something I want?'

Rather than fire back a scathing retort with a smirk, the woman glowers at him. It's a rather drastic change from the almost-camaraderie they'd shared in Dallas, and the anger flowing through their connection is more focused on him than it ever has been before. 'That depends on what you want.' She grits out, but the shifter puts a protective hand on her shoulder.

'We're not here to give you tribute, Eric.' The Viking quells the urge to snarl at the casual touch. Victoria is his – and he is possessive if nothing else.

'No, you're here to request my help based on a hypothetical future in which you return the favour. But you come here with your hands all over my human...' Merlotte edges immediately away from the mage '...and expect help from me even though we both know you despise vampires. Why should I do anything for you?'

'I-I didn't know...' He reaches for words to placate the Viking, but it's Victoria that sets her jaw in stubborn defence and replies for her friend.

'You claim I am yours,' her words are edged with displeasure at the very idea, but there is a hint of slyness in her eyes, 'and that means protection – it's an implicit promise. The maenad has killed two women already, both because she suspected they were supernatural. What do you think she'll do when she discovers me? Somehow, I doubt she'll ask me to come to tea.'

The air rings with the unnerving truth in her words, and Eric has to admit (if only to himself) that he hasn't considered the possibility that the raving one will attack Victoria. That, on top of the fact that the telepath under his control may come to harm, firms his decision, and the Viking settles back into his seat.

'I have no knowledge of this maenad creature, although I suspect it's the bullheaded beast that passed through recently. Right?'

Victoria and Merlotte nod in confirmation, and at his shoulder his progeny scoffs. 'That thing owes me a pair of shoes.'

'So can you help us or not?' The shifter asks. Eric considers him, considers his own options. Only an old and well-informed vampire will know anything of maenads, and though the Viking is loathe to visit the Queen, it seems the best option.

'I do know someone who might be able to offer something useful.' He admits slowly. 'Might… be able to.'

'Can we see your fangs?' The human boy cuts in fearlessly, and Eric lets the razor sharp teeth drop obligingly, almost chuckling at the way the child's sister flinches.

'Don't you like vampires, little girl?' He teases, as gently as he ever teases anyone, ignoring the bristling shifter and fully focused on the red-head who meets his gaze so brazenly.

'Our almost step-daddy hated vampires,' Eric raises a brow, 'but we don't.'

The boy nods. 'He went on a vacation with Jesus.'

'You make me so happy I never had any of you.' Pam announces dryly, and the words make Victoria's lips twitch into a minute smile.

'Oh, come on, Pam. They're funny.' Eric cajoles playfully. 'They're like humans, but miniature. Teacup humans.'

'_I hate them_.' She replies, slipping into Swedish. '_They're so stupid_.'

'_But delicious_.' The Viking adds, and almost jolts at the sudden sharp sting that pinches at his abdomen that he only knows to be magic because of the scene with Nan. He looks at Victoria, only to find her studying her nails in an illusion of disinterest that doesn't fool him. So, she understood at least some of that – interesting.

'So can you call this other person who might be able to…' Merlotte's implied question brings him out of his thoughts.

'Yes. I will contact you as soon as I know more.' The shifter nods and stands, knowing he's being dismissed.

'Right. Thanks.' He turns to the children. 'We should get back to Bon Temps, kids.'

Victoria stands in apparent agreement, moving to leave as well. 'Yep. Bye, Eric. Pam, I'll call you.'

Momentarily baffled, Eric freezes. His progeny and his mage, friends? That's an unholy alliance if he's ever heard of one, but he regains his wits fast enough to speed to her side and leer down at her menacingly. 'You're staying here.'

'Why?' Sam demands – the mage merely stares up at him, eyes dancing with green fire.

'Victoria was correct in saying that my claim on her implies protection; I cannot allow her to go back into a town where she will be at risk.' And Eric has to smirk at the tidal wave of annoyance that surges from her, pleased when after a _long _moment it ebbs into resignation.

'It's fine, Sam,' she waves her boss off gently, 'I need to speak with Eric anyway.'

There is something ominous in those words – it doesn't help at all that he see's Pam smirk from the corner of his eye. Merlotte frowns, though. 'You sure?'

'Yeah, don't worry, I'll catch up soon.' Victoria tells the shifter, completely ignoring the implication that hangs in the air that Eric will not be letting her go anytime soon. 'Look out for Coby and Lisa, okay?'

The shapeshifter glances hesitantly between Victoria and Eric, but eventually nods, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 'Yeah. You be careful too, cher.'

'Goodbye Ms. Victoria!' The little boy calls back.

'Thank you for the flowers!'

Eric only notices because he's watching her intently, but the smile on Victoria's face is considerably fonder as she waves goodbye to the children. But it's gone the moment the door closes behind them, and when the mage spins to face him her jaw is clenched.

'I have a bone to pick with you.' She announces staunchly, and marches off in the direction of his office. The Viking looks to Pam in question, but his progeny only chuckles vindictively – hardly a reassuring sign. Nonplussed, Eric follows his mage (and not-so-subtly admires the way her backside looks encased in tight denim).

xXx

Stood in the centre of Eric's office, Loki looks about her suspiciously. Something feels... out of place; when the Viking enters the room behind her, she raises a hand in a clear gesture for silence and fills the room with her power. When it hits a small metal intrusion under the desk, the Asgardian moves on soundless feet to reach under it, and pulls out a tiny listening device. She tosses it to Eric, mind racing, and it's only when the vampire crushes the bug to dust that she speaks.

'Seems it's not as safe here with you as you thought.' Loki quips, and the Viking shoots her an unimpressed look as he strides around her to sit in the leather spinning chair. She perches on the corner of the desk, enjoying being able to look down at him for once. 'And we both know I'm "yours" in name only, so you might as well just let me leave.'

'"Name only"?' He enquires, feigning disinterest.

'We don't fuck, Eric.'

'That is easily remedied – is that why you wanted to _talk_?' A dangerous smirk hitches the corner of his mouth as the vampire trails a seductive hand up her thigh. 'Do you want me, Victoria?'

'No.' Eric chuckles.

'Liar.'

'No, I mean: "No, that's not why I wanted to talk",' she corrects, rolling her eyes and prying the wandering hand off her leg, 'we both know I'm attracted to you.' There's really no point in denying it when he can feel her emotions clear as day, but there is a tinge of triumph in Eric's eyes when he replies.

'Oh, you certainly are.' He chuckles, but he settles after a moment. 'What do you wish to speak of?'

'Why is Lafayette selling V on your orders?'

Eric stiffens immediately. 'How do you know that?'

'I was with him when someone came round to buy some – Bill was there, too.' The Viking curses violently in Swedish.

'And what did Mr. Compton do?' Is the dangerous whisper of a question, and Loki shrugs as though she hasn't realised his deadly mood-swing.

'Scared the buyer off, tried to intimidate Lafayette – but he's gone to see the Queen to ask about the maenad.' The Viking's jaw clenches, and he glances briefly at the broken remains of the listening device – suddenly, everything clicks into place in the Asgardian's head, and she narrows her eyes. 'Holy crap.'

'What?'

'Your office is being bugged by the Queen of Louisiana – so she can keep an eye on you, so you don't go about telling anyone her secrets.' She leans closer, lowering her voice. 'Secrets like the fact your selling V on _her orders..._'

A hand snaps out lightning quick to clap firmly over her mouth. 'It would be ill-advised to ever repeat those accusations, Victoria.' He tells her stonily. 'This is vampire business.'

The words light a fire inside of her, and Loki rips away from the gag with a growl. 'It became my business when you involved my best friend in it, Eric.' She tells him. 'Why are you selling V? The Magister...'

'The depth of your knowledge of vampire politics is unsettling.' The Viking informs her, and, almost involuntarily, her anger cools at the stiffness of his shoulders. Eric knows exactly how risky selling vampire blood is – and is wary.

'If the Magister catches you, they would do a lot worse than make you turn a teenage girl.'

'I know.' He agrees, uncharacteristically solemn. After a moment of studying him, Loki sighs and lets it go.

'Just... be _careful_. And don't implicate Lafayette if you get caught.' The fire that had been building since she'd discovered what was going on at Lafayette's house is doused so quickly the Asgardian suspects their blood bond has something to do with the easy forgiveness. But the voice of reason in her head reminds her that even before the bond she had been fond of the Viking, and urges her not to write off emotions because she's had his blood – she pushes the thought away, and gets back to business. 'So... the maenad.'

'I will call Sophie-Anne.' Eric declares stiffly, 'but I cannot let you leave to seek her.'

'Eric,' Loki smiles a little, 'it's been a long time since I asked permission for anything, and I don't plan to start with you.'

The Viking flashes to his feet, frowning down at her and coming to stand between her legs. Loki is acutely aware of her pulse speeding at the proximity. 'You said it yourself, Victoria – a mage would likely be a prize for a maenad.'

'Maryann is fixated on Sam – I doubt I'd even catch her notice.' Her eyebrows furrow at the intent look on his face. 'Why are you trying so hard to protect me when we both know I can take care of myself?'

'You are mine.' He insists, and the tense line of his shoulders tells her that's not the whole truth but Loki pretends not to notice.

'We both know that the whole "claiming" bullshit doesn't really include supes anyway (2),' she argues, 'any obligation you felt towards me is unnecessary.'

'You will stay here until the maenad is dealt with.' He insists, voice heated.

'You can't make me do anything.'

'I can!' Frustrated and stubborn and _desperate _to get back to Bon Temps, Loki slams their lips together. Eric responds immediately, coaxing her mouth open and twining their tongues together in a sensual dance that he has spent 1000 years perfecting. But the Asgardian hasn't spent her four-millennia as a nun, so she brings her hands up to play with the short hairs at the back of his neck and barely reacts when his fangs drop, almost skewering her lower lip. Careful not to cut the soft muscle, she runs the tip of her tongue down the sensitive nerves on the back of one fang, and is immensely gratified when he gives a full-body shudder. The kiss is as much of a fight at their argument was, both parties struggling for dominance yet neither giving an inch, and the result is messy and unselfconscious and _unbelievably _hot, Loki thinks as an arm around her back pulls her impossibly closer to the vampire.

Eric's hands slide down, obviously planning to pick her up, but the Asgardian bucks and sends them both stumbling into the Viking's office chair. Immediately taking advantage of her position straddling the blonde, Loki pulls back from his mouth, holding his shoulders against the back of the chair with her hands and a little magic.

'Let me leave, Eric.'

'Why would I do that when I could keep you here and fuck you until you scream?' He questions, voice embarrassingly composed in contrast to her near breathless words. The words send a bolt of arousal through her like a lightning bolt, and she pretends not to notice his triumphant hum.

'I'll go with or without your permission.' The Asgardian threatens seriously, and he chuckles.

'Then I will follow you.' Despite herself, Loki is a little amused at his unyielding will, but honestly could do without a Viking bodyguard. So, she huffs minutely.

'I'd rather you didn't.' She hops off of his lap, maintaining the magic holding him down and considers him seriously before leaning forward to press a brief yet firm kiss to his lips. 'For luck.' She informs him with a wink, and her magic whips her away from the office, from _Fangtasia _completely. Loki tumbles into the abyss willingly, mouth tasting faintly of blood and chuckling soundlessly at the thought that she just used seduction to out-manoeuvre Eric Northman.

She will have to tell Pam – the vampire will never let her maker live it down.

Bound to the chair by invisible bonds, Eric watches Victoria disappear from the room in a whirl of power that leaves him with his hairs standing on end. When she is gone completely and the spell dissipates, he runs a hand through slightly tousled blonde hair. For the first time, he contemplates just how powerful the mage is, just how much she could accomplish with a mere have of the hand: and he _wants_ her so ardently for it that he very nearly grits his teeth.

Victoria Storm, he contemplates, may actually come to be considered his _equal._ It is a shocking thought._ But not as shocking as that kiss_ he reminds himself – one moment they had been at each others throats and they were ready to rip clothes off. Vampire emotions are pretty changeable, but it has been a long time since he's gone from so pissed off to so aroused so quickly. And then, for her to leave, completely disregarding his orders?

He _should _be aggravated, but the Viking in him revels in the challenge in her actions.

The vibrating of his cell phone in his pocket pulls him from his thoughts, and he whips it out. 'Northman.'

'_Why the fuck,_' Sophie-Anne fairly snarls on the other end of the line, '_was Bill Compton in my palace telling me of my Sheriff selling V?!_'

Eric rolls his eyes at her dramatics. 'Your majesty...'

'_I told you to keep it under the radar, didn't I? I should have you staked for treason._'

'I am sorry, my Queen.' The words taste terrible on his tongue. 'The discovery was an oversight, but I will take care of Compton.'

'_See that you do._' She snaps. '_And move the blood._'

'Yes, your majesty.'

'_And what's this I hear about a maenad?'_

'It will be taken care of, I'm sure.'

'_Good. And the mage?_'

Eric almost snaps the phone in his hand in agitation – trust Bill to sell out. 'I have claimed her – she is under control.'

'_Keep it that way. The last thing we need is a rogue magic-user on our hands. But tell me,'_ The Queen's ire halts enough for her to purr, _'does her blood taste as exquisite as I have heard?' _

'It is delicious.' He lies without hesitation – admitting to not of having tasted Victoria would be as good as calling her unclaimed. Eric knows of Sophie-Anne's fascination with collecting rare creatures, and he wouldn't wish that fate on anyone.

'_Lucky boy. Maybe you could be persuaded to share._' His growl at the thought is not as quiet as he means it to be, and the Queen's answering laugh is a little mocking. '_Or maybe not. I'd forgotten how little you like to share with your toys, Viking._'

'...Apologies.'

'_No need. Maybe when you're tired of her._' Her tone grows serious. _'Move the blood. Get rid of Compton. And have a nice night.'_

'I will do as you ask, my Queen.'

'_Oh, and, next time you find my bugs in your office? Leave them._' The click that signals she has hung up sounds through the office, and Eric resists the urge to launch the phone against the nearest wall is strong.

Suddenly, the maenad in Bon Temps is the last thing on his mind.

* * *

Loki materializes in Bon Temps Cemetery amid a stream of curses. Her return to the relative safety in Lafayette's home had been thwarted when she found Lettie Mae alone and crying on the porch. The woman had stuttered out the story of letting Tara go and Lafayette and Sookie chasing after her, and it had taken everything in her to hold onto her temper. A quick jump to an empty and dark _Merlotte's _confirmed that her boss wasn't there either, so she had followed the trail and was exasperated to discover it lead straight to Sookie's home – Maryann's lair. Standing amidst aged tombstones in the warm Louisiana night, Loki considers the fact that she was absent for maybe three hours and all the people she cares about in the town have managed to get captured and/or hypnotised by a 10,000 year old Greek relic.

She isn't sure if she should lock them up for their own safety or smack them for their stupidity. But the Asgardian walks slowly towards the Stackhouse home even though she is uncertain, filled with determination to get rid of Maryann and to get her friends back. She ignores the waves of dark power that breeze across her skin, the tempting scent of pure chaos that tries to suck her in and twist her into something darker. A maenad's thrall is about freedom – loosening inhibitions and indulging in the darker pleasures of lust and violence and debauchery. 900 years ago, Loki would have revelled in the wild, untameable destruction it wrought, but one thing she is certain of now is that freedom bought at the cost of your free will is no freedom at all, so she ignores the seductive whispers that curl around her like smoke and strides onward, ready to take action if need be.

_Four thousand years of leaving humans largely to their own devices and one little town has me all up in arms_. Loki has to smile at the thought, but the expression drops when she comes into view of the front lawn of Sookie's home. Most of the town is milling about, all of them black-eyed and more than half of them naked, dancing in circles around a huge straw figure covered in raw meat and smelling worse than a draug in high summer.

But then she spots something that freezes her insides. _'Sam?!_' Loki hisses under her breath, watching as the shapeshifter gets dragged towards the house by Bill. The Asgardian is so tense she has to reach out a tendril of power and dip into his head just to see what the hell her boss is thinking, and stills at what she finds there.

A plan. Make the maenad believe her god has come, then kill her. Simple, risky, but possibly the best chance they've got. Loki can work with that. A rag-tag group of musicians starts up the wedding march, scratchy and out of tune, and the maenad herself steps out onto the porch after a procession of Loki's friends – all of them possessed save for Sookie, who struggles in the arms of Tara's boyfriend.

The key to disguising oneself as average is the ability to blend in, and Maryann Forrester obviously knows this; she looks like any other woman in her 40's, with long black hair and delicate fine lines around her eyes. It is offset, though, by the long, vintage wedding gown she wears and the wreath of ivy on her head, and the effervescent aura of the ancient that seems to seep from every pore. The maenad is smiling hugely, genuinely pleased as those under her thrall chant for Dionysus – your typical bride on her wedding day.

If, you know, typical weddings included human sacrifice and pagan worship.

'Maenad!' Bill cries, stepping into view and staunchly ignoring Sookie's baffled shouts at the sight of her boss. 'I have your sacrifice.'

Maryann's lip trembles as she beholds the man she's chased since he was a teenager. 'Oh, my sweet vessel.'

'I offer him in exchange for Sookie.'

The telepath gapes in horror at her boyfriend's stoic declaration. 'No, she'll kill him!'

'Take her to the dead man.' The maenad declares with serene wave of the hand. 'She's served her purpose.'

'Bill, you can't let her kill Sam!' Sookie screams, grabbing for her friend even as she's shoved into her lover's arms, and Loki takes advantage of the ruckus to dart into the group of clamouring townspeople, all but unnoticed in the fray. Maryann strokes Sam's face tenderly, smiling as though she didn't plan on ripping out his heart.

'Gentlemen, he's yours.' She instructs, and the watching audience cheer as they drag the shifter to a large wooden stake where they tie his arms above his head and rip open his shirt to bare his chest. The maenad moves to stand before the straw figure, bowing her head in prayer. 'Let us call forth our God.'

Everyone around her drops to their knees, and Loki follows suit reluctantly. Keen, green eyes watch as Tara places an wine-coated "sacrificial" egg in the heart of the idol and a black-eyed Lafayette climbs up to position a bull mask at its head, and Loki takes a moment to think on how crude it all is. There had been a time when humans had made similar for she and her family, and Loki had always abhorred the horrors carried out in her name – if Dionysus is somehow real, what would he think of this?

But now is not the time to ponder theology, and as the hypnotised masses begin to chant the name of Maryann's god, the maenad tells the story of Dionysus and his mother's sacrifice, and the shifter is bought before her.

'Sam!' Sookie cries out at seeing him, and her voice is loud in the face of the rapt silence of the townspeople. But Maryann only has eyes for her "vessel".

'Oh, at last,' she breathes, stepping closer, 'at long, long last: he is yours, my Lord.'

When Eggs steps up clutching a large, shining silver knife, Loki and those around her climb to their feet, and hers is the only face that isn't alight with anticipation – the Asgardian knows the plan, hopes it'll work... but her gut is raging in protest nonetheless.

'Do it!' Someone cries from the crowd of possessed onlookers, and they are echoed many times over even as the telepath screams out in protest from Bill's arms. Eggs raises the blade over his head with both hands, mouth open in concentration and brings it down hard.

Sookie flinches. The crowd cheers. Bill's fangs drop at the violence in the air.

But it's Maryann and Loki who see what has happened first. Eggs, glancing confusedly between the clean knife and the unbroken skin of Sam's chest, attempts to stab again only to be met with a flash of blue as a shield of magic prevents the blade from breaking skin. It is familiar magic, and a wide-eyed Loki's gaze snaps to the trivial rope bracelet that hangs from Sam's wrist – the one Loki had gifted to her boss without much thought and had charmed to protect the wearer from only the most fatal injury.

_Oh, shit._

The maenad's face drops in confusion then just as quickly contorts in rage. Something akin to panic swell in Loki's chest – she can't remove the charm without direct contact, and it would be suspicious if she did so anyway. Maryann marches forward and snatches the knife from her minion, slamming the sharp end into a baffled Sam's chest, but it is futile. The onlookers begin to murmur in confusion, but they are silenced by Maryann's feral cry of wordless rage.

'Who dares prevent my sacrifice?' She demands, and when no answer is forthcoming her lip curls and she throws out her hands. 'If I cannot have him, I will take them _all_.' Loki hears nothing, but those around her – everyone under her thrall – clutch their heads as if hearing something so loud that their ear-drums pop. And as the screams grow louder, the Asgardian pushes through the crowd and comes skidding to a halt before the maenad, mind working furiously on a new plan.

'It was me!' She cries, and ignores Sookie's gasp. Maryann pauses in the torment of the townspeople to tilt her head at the Asgardian. 'I protected Sam – it was me.'

'A... mage?' The maenad breathes a little disbelievingly. Loki nods in confirmation of the false assumption, unsure how she would react to her Asgardian heritage. 'And a powerful one, too.' She steps closer, and a dangerous expression flickers over her face. '_You _would make a worthy sacrifice yourself.'

'Probably.' Loki agrees, gulping at the sheer madness of the eyes she stares into. 'Gods usually appreciate power over poetry.'

Maryann smiles in sick satisfaction. 'Oh? You would take his place?' She gestures to the shifter, who has begun thrashing in his bonds at the notion. 'Do you... _love _him?'

'No. He's a pretty great boss, though – and a friend.' Loki moves closer to the shifter, leaning forward to peck his cheek in what the onlookers would take for a last farewell. 'Be ready to do your part.' She whispers almost inaudibly in his ear, and the words are enough to still his struggles. With a lingering, meaningful look, Loki turns back to the maenad, who is grinning.

'Oh, this is _perfect_,' she breathes reverently, twirling gaily on the spot, 'a willing sacrifice for my Lord – the strong and benevolent martyr. A mage would surely make him come!'

'About that...' Loki throws out an arm in the direction of the idol and her magic rips it apart in an explosion of meat and yolk. The crowd screams in shock, and Maryann gapes in mute horror as her precious offering is destroyed before her eyes before spinning to the culprit with murderous eyes. 'You're gonna have to catch me first.'

The Asgardian turns and sprints full-speed down Sookie's gravel drive, dodging the odd hand that grabs at her and hoping against hope that the maenad will take the bait, will refuse to allow the insolence to stand. Her half-formed plan won't work if they stay in the midst of the maenad's minions, and she has to give her a convincing reason to abandon the sight of her ritual.

And then Maryann bellows in rage, and Loki's heart trills in triumph even as she picks up her pace.

_Gotcha._

* * *

Author's Note: Well! Lots of action here – and finally an Eric/Loki kiss! I would love to hear feedback on this, as well as what everyone thinks of me fucking with canon. Next chapter will be late because I'll be on holiday, so I hope this tides everyone over (and doesn't kill with the cliffhanger). As always, please keep up with the wonderful reviews!

(1) This definition was taken from Wikipedia, so I apoligise if the information is not accurate according to Greek mythology.

(2) I'm not sure if this is canon, but the show and the books always made it seem like being "claimed" by a vampire was a bond between human and vampire that offers protection in exchange for blood. As most supes can take care of themselves (except Sookie, because that fairy is a serious danger magnet) I figure claiming doesn't really count – as OFC!Loki says.


End file.
